


Fighting For Nothing

by magnuspr1m3



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Allspark Sam Witwicky, Characters and tags added as they come, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Post-Transformers: Dark of the Moon (2011), Sam Deals With Things, Sam-Centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:26:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7621906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnuspr1m3/pseuds/magnuspr1m3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had never been depressed before, let alone suicidal. Yet, he finds himself waking up to the news that he had tried. Because of Carly. Things were not adding up, but Sam does not have the time to question it, not with the proverbial shit suddenly hitting the fan. The Autobots have to go into hiding after being kicked from the planet they have come to call home, and Sam finds he is also no longer welcome on his home planet either. Yet, the Earth still needs the Autobots, and they will come to find this out the hard way.</p><p>The Autobots just might not be ready to fight for Earth anymore. And Sam cannot blame them. Not now that he is one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all! So, this story is posted from (and updated quite a bit) from fanfiction (same username there, if you care to read the older version). Figured I would finish it up here, and post the sequel here as well. I've got essentially all of this typed up, so expect relatively quick updates. A few important side notes:
> 
> \- This story does not follow all of the happenings of Dark of the Moon. Megatron is not killed, or Ironhide.  
> \- This will lead into Age of Extinction, but do not expect it to be the same.  
> \- It will continue past Age of Extinction. This is a long one, guys. I mean it. And there is a sequel.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, if you do. And I hope you will enjoy it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7/19/2017: I updated this chapter, and will be going through and updating them all before posting the newest chapters. Just feel the need to fix a few things, and flesh some stuff out more.

Pain, albeit a strange sort of pain, pulled him from what he assumed was a long period of sleep. He thought that he may have been shaking, but could not find the strength to open his eyes or still his body. All he could do was lay there in the dark, internally screaming for help. He could hear voices, rather distant ones. They nagged at his aching consciousness, breaking in at random intervals. He tried desperately to identify the voices, to will his mouth to open and call to them. _Help me, oh god, please._

"...Where the Pit did he get that anyway? You should keep a better eye on yer charge, Bee-" This voice was rough, harsh. He guessed that it was likely referring to him. What did he get? Was he sick? Was he dying? He imagined this is what dying felt like, at any rate, so that was likely.

"I can't when you always have me at base doing battle training! I barely ever see him anymore!" He knew that voice immediately. He could not pinpoint from where, but he knew it. Bee, the other voice had said. Yes, yes, he knew the name, knew it was important. But, _who_ was it? His mind gave him no face to match the name with. He tried to call for this Bee, but could not even muster the strength to do much more than groan as he spasmed. He felt a pressure settle on his chest, stilling him as he felt his body twitch and worsened the ache.

"He wasn't my-"

"Don't say was! Sam still is my charge! And he always will be because he won't die!" Sam. That must be his name, Sam. He tried once more to call out to the voices, to get their attention. Yet again he was unsuccessful.

"If you two are only going to argue, get out of my infirmary! I can't work with you two bickering right next to me! So, if you want Sam fixed, Bumblebee, shut up!" This voice was loud, angered, and slightly frightened. Sam didn’t like the implications of the fear in his tone. Perhaps he really was dying. He found he did not want to die, even with the terrible pain. "He is semi-aware of what's going on. He should be able to hear you if you talk to him, Bee."  _I can already hear you!_ He wanted to shout.  _Help me! Stop this! I don't want to die!_

"Really?" There is an agonizing pause in which the pain seems to grow stronger than before, and Sam wished desperately that he could scream. Bee’s soft voice, tone slightly scratching as if from disuse, broke through the pain and pulled him back. "Sam? Sam, what were you thinking? Why couldn't you just wait for me to get home, then we could've talked. You can always talk to me, about anything. I thought you knew that…" Home. Sam and Bee shared a home, a place where one made memories and did a good many other things. Sam felt a tingle spread out from within his chest, easing away the pain. _Keep talking, Bee. Please._ He thought, urging silently for the pain to ease completely.

"Why did you do this to yourself, Sam? What was this supposed to accomplish?" Bee's voice sounded rather distraught, and Sam's stomach clenched up with guilt. Bee was sad because of him, it is all his fault. Bee sighed, a soft _woosh_ of air. He thought he may have felt it against him. "Sam, you know that I will always care for you. I know you'll miss her, but you will always have me; I love you. You are my best friend..."

Bee said he loved Sam. He kept on talking, voice just above a whisper. He told Sam about all sorts of things after that: about being able to speak, about a party he missed, and about his work and training. Sam felt the pain ease more until it was nearly gone, fading as time passed. But, the voices faded as well.

“I’ve got him stable, Bee. He’ll be under in a second…”

.   .   .

The first thing he saw once he was finally able to open his eyes was a bright white light, and his first noise was a frustrated hiss as he slammed his eyes shut once again. He lifted his arms up to shield his eyes, the muscles crying in pain, and wires and tubes protruding from his skin. These immediately caught his attention. He reached with one hand to play with one connected to the inside of his elbow, wondering why it was there. He knew had been...  _dying_ , but he could think of no reason why a  _wire_ would be protruding from his elbow instead of an IV.

"Would you stop playing with that?" The third voice seemed to scold and Sam quickly looked to his left to see a huge, neon green-yellow mech. "I'm glad to see you are alive and well, Sam. You had us all worried, especially Bee, but I don’t need you ruining all of my work and making yourself ill again." Sam's eyes lit up at the mention of Bee. Bee! He wanted to see Bee. He could not remember what he looked like, but he knew he would know him when he saw him. Bee was important. Bee loved him. "Calm down! Bumblebee and the others said they would stop by as soon as I gave the okay!" The mech replied. He rolled his optics at the boy's rather obvious disappointment. "Sam, you shoved a piece of the Allspark into your heart. You're lucky I could get you stable. Unfortunately, you underwent some... Unexpected changes. I'm still not sure the extent of them all, or if they are done."

"I want to see Bee." Sam croaked out, ignoring the mech's frustration as he tried to sit up properly, to move. He found his limbs did not really want to cooperate with him at that moment. "I-I need to see Bee."

"No, you need to relax and let me scan you. I also need to brief you on... Well, what you underwent so far." The mech immediately set to work. Red lights passed over Sam, and he felt an odd tingle.

Sam muttered. "That tickles." A small smile stretched across his face, a soft chuckle escaping him. He ignored the slight ache of it, hoping this mech would not notice his slight grimace

"Sam, I have told you before that there is no reason for this to resemble that tickling sensation that you speak of. Although, I'm glad you can at least feel something, I would appreciate it if you would not fidget." He continued to scan Sam where he lay back flat on the med berth. Another red light sweeps over him, before he let out a sigh of frustration. "It still hasn't stopped," He huffed out, shaking his helm in dismay.

"Huh?" Sam inquired, still rather hazy, his mind refusing to give any answers. "What do you mean? What happened to change me? Have I not always been this way?"

The mech shook his helm, a grim look in his optics. "Sam, you tried to kill yourself by slamming an Allspark shard into your chest after Carly broke up with you. Don't you remember?"

_Pain. Emotional pain. Carly had packed a small bag of the necessities and simply left, without even saying a good bye. She had left Sam a note, a note he was dreading reading._

_He could always wait for Bee to get back to read it, right? But, something was nagging at him, telling him to read it now. So, he gingerly picks the folded up piece of paper off of the bed he had shared with her before, and begins to unfold it._

_Sam,_

_I can't take this anymore. I hate this, all of this. I hate how restless you get when Bumblebee is gone, and no matter what I do, you refuse to calm down. I understand you have been through a lot with him, but maybe you didn't get the memo: He is a giant alien robot. You are a human. Whether you like it or not, he will have other things to do, besides guard you from a now non-existent threat. And, whenever I talk to you about him, you kind of clench up, and don't really want to talk. What are you hiding, Sam? I guess I'll never find out, because this is good bye. Forever._

_I'll miss you,_

_Carly_

_He set the letter aside, and he sat there on the side of the bed. He could not think straight. His brain was cloudy, for lack of a better term, and his heart was torn. What was he supposed to do without her, especially after all he had gone through to be with her, all he had given up. And she just left. How could she just leave?_

_He… He just needed to lie down for now. Let it all sink in. Yeah. He could just sleep until Bee would come back._

"C-Carly," Sam whispered, his body shaking. "She was jealous... Of Bee. Why?"

The bot shrugged slightly, "I would not know. Shouldn't you know?" The boy's blank expression showed how he is even more clueless. "Sam, what year is it?"

"I don't know." He answered numbly, his expression clouded with worry.

"Who is Bumblebee?"

Sam froze, trying desperately to remember more than the familiar voice that tickled every fiber of his being. "I... I'm not sure. I know he... I think that Bee is a he... He said he loves me. And that he will always be there for me. He cares for me... We live together; from the sound of it, we have for a while, even with Carly. But, I don't know what else."

"What is your full name?"

Sam just stares up at the ceiling. "All I know is Sam." He shook his head, tears leaking from his oddly bright blue eyes. “I… I don’t even know who you are, but I know I _knew_ you. What happened to me?”

.   .   .

Bumblebee snuck into the infirmary that night, just as he had every night for the past two weeks. He reached for the light switch, flicking it up to reveal the sleeping boy. Or, at least Bee thought he was sleeping until he heard him speak. "Ratchet, you just checked me about twenty-four minutes ago. I don't think you need to scan me yet again." Sam grumbled, placing his left arm over his eyes to shield them. "And, if it's food or energon you are trying to give me, I would like you to know that I ate at seven thirty. I am good. Now, please, turn the light off."

"Sam?"

The brunette jolted into a sitting position, ignoring the screams of pain from all around his body. His eyes, now an almost glowing, bright blue, seemed to twinkle even more than before. He just stared at Bumblebee for a long moment, head tilted slightly to the side. Sam just stared, brain lagging behind but heart pounding loudly in his chest all of a sudden. Who could that mech be…?

_Bee._

After a second, it looked to Bee as if he just came back into his body and he was suddenly sobbing. "Bee! Oh my god, Bee!"

Bumblebee was instantly by his side, his holoform seated on the berth next to Sam, holding the real human close. "Shh... It's okay. You're here, I'm here, we are both alive, and that is all we can ask for. It’s all gonna be okay, Sam." Even if Bee still wondered endlessly what could have possibly led Sam to do what he had, he would not bring that up then. He could not. They were going to be okay. He would make sure of it.

“Oh god, you can talk! I missed your party! Shit, Bee, I…” Sam looked at the fake human next to him, taking in his holo as well as the voice he had never actually been able to hear before. His blond hair was rather shaggy, and stopped just above his chin. He had bright, blue eyes and a sweet smile, one that warmed Sam's heart... Or what once was his heart. God, had Ratchet told Bee about him? About how he was a _freak_ now, neither truly human or Cybertronian? How he had done this to himself, somehow, but had no memory of why or how? Even with his hazy memories back, he still could not conjure up any memory of him even possessing an Allspark shard after the Fallen, let alone trying to kill himself with one. "Bee?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"I forgot. Everything..." Sam's voice seemed sullen as he looked over the side of the med berth. It was all so oddly hazy, and disjointed. Like before everything, his life had been a dream. But, his heart – _spark –_ knew Bee. And was that not a little terrifying? "But, when I saw you... It came back. It’s foggy, but it’s there."

Bee smiled smugly, "Of course it did. If it came back because of anyone other than me, I may become suspicious." Bumblebee teased, still holding on tightly to his charge. Part of him worried that Sam would just disappear if he let him go. He could never go through that again, losing Sam. Never.

"Ratchet said he suspected it was because of the… of the changes my body underwent. Because of what I did.” Sam stopped speaking hesitantly, not sure exactly how to explain all of this to Bee. He still struggled to understand it all himself. He... he was not _normal_ , although he could not remember a time when he had been anymore. Ever since the Allspark, back in high school, he had not been normal. Maybe before then. He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to loosen the knot that settled itself there. "Bee, we need to talk. About me, and what happened."

Bumblebee simply held him tighter. "Not right now. Please, just let me enjoy this moment." He begged, practically squeezing the life out of the boy. Irrationally, he worried that talking about, about what could have happened, would make it real. He feared it might wake him up from recharge to find that Sam was really gone.

"At least let me tell you about the changes." Sam sounded somewhat annoyed. Whether Bumblebee liked it or not, they needed to talk. Discussing the past could come later, he supposed, but not this. When he got a nod, Sam continued. "Ratchet claims it made me... Well, it changed me, internally mostly, to kind of resemble your guys'. Like... I don't have a heart anymore. I have a spark. And a processor. Says that’s why I forgot stuff, my memories did not transfer over properly. It's... Weird to say the least. He referred to me as a techno-organic. Should've just said freak. It's what I am." Sam shifted some, wanting to escape the other’s hold, but not pushing him away. He felt it would be wrong to do that after all that had happened and the stress he had put on everyone. He never wanted to hear that much desperation in Bee's voice ever again. "Why does all the bad shit happen to me?" He asked rather somberly, “I almost wish my grandfather had never found Megatron; none of this would have happened…”

"There's always a rainbow after a storm." Bumblebee answered in an attempt to comfort Sam. "Maybe, your attempt at..." He let his voice drop, not wanting to mention the fact that his charge had tried to kill himself, "was the bad thing, and this all," he motioned to Sam's body, "is the rainbow."

Sam stared at Bumblebee's holo-form skeptically, "Since when do you talk like Prime?" Sam teased lightly, attempting a smile for his friend.

“Well, he did raise me, technically.” Bee pointed out, and both of them chuckled until Sam winced. Bee abruptly stopped, scanning his charge for any major issues. He would hate himself forever if something happened to Sam again, especially so soon. "Do I need to comm. Ratchet?"

Sam shook his head, "I could... If I needed to. An advantage of this whole ordeal." Sam adverted his gaze from Bee's shocked false-blue eyes. He did not want Bumblebee to think of him as a freak. He certainly did. He was not _normal_.

"What else?" Bee asked simply, shock slipping away from his expression quickly as his mech form transformed and idled over by the door of the medbay.

Sam had half-expected Bee to be disgusted with him. He was relieved to see that he was not. His reply came out timidly, still a bit unsure, "Um... I'm not too sure yet. I know that... Well, Ratchet said I could... Um..."

When the other trailed off nervously, Bee felt his spark drop somewhat. What had Sam so worried? "Ratchet said you could what?"

"He called it interfacing and connecting."

The holo’s eyes widened in surprise and the camaro’s engine roared as his fake mouth dropped open, before he slammed it shut and furrowed his eyebrows in frustration. "If I find out that Ratchet found that out by experimenting, I'll rip his spark out." He growled protectively, blue eyes appearing to flicker red for a moment.

"Why?" Sam asked, his own bright blue eyes flaring with amusement. He chuckled as his guardian's holo-form ground its teeth in frustration; it was amazing how easily the other mimicked human reactions. "You think I’d _let him_? God, Bee, do you think I’m that easy?" His tone was kept light, teasing as he stuck his tongue out to Bee.

"Shut up and rest; you almost died." Bumblebee grated out, his holo-form disappearing and his mech-form exiting the infirmary after transforming once more. His servo reached out to flick the light off, but he made sure to whisper 'good night' before turning out the bright light. Sam's chuckling followed him down the hallway, easing his spark some more. He wanted nothing more than to stay with the other, but feared facing Ratchet's wrath in the morning. He instead made his way to go pester Sideswipe and Sunstreaker with the good news; he was sure they would like to know he would not be moping around the rec room anymore.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7/19/2017: updated

Ratchet entered the med bay the next morning in an already annoyed mood after having caught footage of Bumblebee sneaking in last night. He had specifically said no visitors until they were cleared by him. He had not stopped him, though. He understood that the other needed reassurance that Sam was alright. He had not stopped him the other times while Sam was still unconscious, either. But that did not mean that Ratchet was going to allow Bee to see Sam today when he had disobeyed his orders. He was lucky Ratchet did not have him thrown in the brig. He would not coddle Bee and cater to his every wish like he was still a youngling. No matter how much he may have still felt the urge to do so.

"Hey, Ratchet!" Sam greeted, his voice rather chipper. He was sitting up on his berth, hands fidgeting in his lap "Did you have a restful recharge? I sure did!" If his hands had not been clue enough that Sam was anxiously trying to hide something, his spark rate and tone of voice certainly were.

"Samuel, do not try and hide the fact that Bee snuck in last. You’re terrible at it. Your spark rate always spikes, and you play with your hands every time you lie." Ratchet reprimanded, running a quick scan of the techno-organic. Everything seemed… well, as normal as he could expect it all to be now. Things were still changing, although much more slowly than before. He supposed that was reassuring, at least. It gave him time to try and figure out how to stop it, to preserve a little bit of normality for the young man. After all Sam had done for them, Ratchet felt they owed him at least that, if not more.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Ratchet," Sam lied, as smoothly as he could. Sadly, it was not smooth enough. And he knew it. He tried, though. He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to look as innocent as possible while watching the medic.

Ratchet grumbled, “Sure you don’t.” He was obviously not in the mood this morning for joking around, so Sam decided against pushing the matter. There was no point in trying to fool him when he knew Ratchet likely had centuries of practice telling when a patient was lying. Maybe centuries was even underestimating how much practice Ratchet actually had. He might ask Bee about that later.

"Anything new?" Sam asked worriedly, knowing that it was a possibility. He prayed that it was not, but had a feeling his prayers fell upon deaf ears with how his life had been going. "Anything old?"

"Just not used to these scans, is all," Ratchet stated simply as he picked up a nearby fuel capacitor he had been working on outfitting to try and produce a proper food source for Sam, something that would give him all the nutrients he needed for both his human and Cybertronian anatomy. He had minimal success so far, and wished that Wheeljack were still there. Even Que, the reformatted inventor, would have had more luck than him. "It's like the perfect combination of Cybertronian body structure and human body structure. It's rather beautiful, if... not what I want for you, Samuel."

"If you say so, Ratchet."

Ratchet snorted, "Boy, even you would believe it is beautiful. Seeing as they are your insides, you should anyway." He went to the cabinet and pulled out a series of small energon cubes before turning to the techno-organic. "You should probably start consuming more energon to keep your insides at peace." He set a few down on the berth next to Sam. Sam had taken to the energon goodies like a fish to water, so he imagined this would go just as easily. It was sort of saddening that Sam enjoyed it; none of the other humans could stand it, and generally threw up immediately. This was wrong, even if Ratchet knew it was for the best that Sam enjoyed the taste of energon now. "You can go ahead and consume one now, and save the rest for your lunch and dinner."

Sam nodded, gingerly picking up one of the cubes. He stared at it for a moment before asking Ratchet a question, interrupting his double-checking of his scans. "How do I eat it? The other bit you gave me were more like sticks. This… I can’t just eat the cube, can I?"

“No, these are not like those energon goodies I gave you.” He stated, picking one up and just barely squeezing it. "Just squeeze it. It will come out. You can drink it like water."

Sam nodded and did just that before Bumblebee burst into the med bay, stretching his arms back behind his helm. He caught sight of the yellow mech and rolled his newly blue eyes- _optics_ , humans had eyes, he had optics- at his antics. "Bee, he knows you snuck in last night. Not much point in acting like you slept much last night." Sam chuckled as his guardian's doorwings drooped down. Even if Bee could speak now, he still seemed just as expressive. That was a relief. Perhaps he had always been that way.

"Bumblebee, I would appreciate it if you would not get my patient too worked up. Thank you." Ratchet grumbled, not even letting his attention leave the peculiar scans. Ratchet had several worries, the main being that Sam's new Cybertronian internal components did not have the capability to keep his still organic organs and extremities operating for very long. But, they had thus far. It was odd how none of these parts had started decaying. How was this working? "Bumblebee, you keep an eye on Sam while I go check a few things." And, with that, Ratchet left the two alone in the med bay.

And just as suddenly, Sam was sitting next to the blond holo-form of his guardian. Their blue eyes met and he rolled his own as his guardian put an arm around his shoulder. "So, how is the ole' Hatchet? Did he get on you too bad about me sneaking in to say hi?"

"Nah, man." Sam said, shrugging Bumblebee's arm off of him. "He was too busy examining me and telling about how my body is now some perfect freak-ish mess or some shit. Kinda creepy if ya ask me." Sam nudged Bumblebee lightly, smirking some. It was nice to just relax with the other after everything that had happened. But, he really did need to talk with the other. Something in the back of his mind kept nagging him, but he brushed it aside at the other’s suddenly sour expression.

Bumblebee snarled slightly, surprised by the noise and the flare of jealousy it sent through him. He had no reason to feel threatened by Ratchet; the other had a sparkmate, and Bee was not with Sam like that. What was wrong with him? Well, he knew what was wrong with him, and had been wrong with him since the destruction of the Allspark. He could not shake the feeling, the pull to be by Sam. No matter how hard he tried to, or how far across the Earth he traveled, he still felt it. It was not normal. If either of them were a freak, it was Bee. Not that he wanted Sam to ever know that.

Sam quirked a brow up at that, chuckling a bit awkwardly, "Chill, big guy. You're acting like an over-protective brother." He gave Bee a smirk, and punched him lightly on his arm. _Or a jealous boyfriend_ , part of him thought, but Sam did not say that out loud. That was just a little bit weird. Or a lot, really. "Ratchet didn't mean it like that. He's a medic, he's allowed to say these kinds of things."

Bee crossed his arms across his chest with a pout. "I'm your guardian, it's my job to be over-protective. Literally. Ask Prime, he was mine. He still doesn't let me patrol on my own. It's terrible."

Sam decided to do something rather gutsy, and pushed the pouting holo-form over. Bumblebee yelped, clutching at the air to keep himself from falling on his face on the cold medical berth. Sam chuckled as his friend ended up face down on the metal surface. “Looks like your reaction time isn’t too good while playing human, huh, Bee?” He teased, sticking his tongue out at his friend. Bee had always been one of the most alert people – well, mechs – that he knew. He snickered to himself, especially when the holo actually pouted up at him.

"You'll pay for that," Bee growled jokingly as he pulled himself on to his hands and knees. He stood up and spun on his heels to glare playfully at the brunette, who in turn gave a rather girlish 'eep' of surprise before scurrying to the edge of the mech-sized berth. Bee lunged at him, swiftly pinning him. There was a brief moment where Sam simply lay there, staring up at Bee. The blond grinned down at Sam, a devious glint in his eyes that had Sam’s spark racing.

Sam yelped when suddenly hands were on his sides, fingers digging in to the sensitive skin there and tickling him aggressively. "B-bee! Stop! R-Ratchet'll be pissed!" Bee continued to tickle him, ignoring Sam's pleas through his laughter. He did so until he noticed that Sam seemed to wince slightly when he brushed over specific spots. Bee stopped and found himself staring down on a rather flushed Sam Witwicky, his eyes half-lidded in exhaustion. Sam's breaths came in slight pants, Bee sitting on him making it a bit difficult to breathe. But, Bee didn't appear to plan on moving anytime soon.

Unless you count towards Sam's lips moving.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7/20/2017: updated

Sam's eyes went impossibly wide as he felt those oddly soft and sweet lips trying to mingle with his own. He was frozen and confused, not sure of what to do or how he had found himself in this position. Why was his car – okay, saying Bee was just his car was kind of rude, but seriously why was he kissing him? And, why did Sam feel an odd compulsion to kiss back? He was not gay! Not even a little bit. He had only ever been with women. For a reason! Sam was straight. 100 percent. And Bee knew that! Yet, he was not pushing Bee away. And wasn’t that a very important “why” to answer.

Before he could answer himself, he found his lips moving against the blond's and his eyes shutting slowly. _No!_ He screamed at himself mentally. _This is wrong, so wrong! Not only is this your best friend, your guardian, and a guy, it's your car! Bad, Sam!_  His minds scolding grew softer as Sam allowed Bee to slip his tongue between his lips, and the two begin to fight for dominance. Sam’s hands roamed underneath Bee's shirt as Bee began to kiss down his neck. He let out a soft noise, spark rate absolutely through the roof after the tickling and now _this_.

God, but _this_ was great.

"Bumblebee!" Ratchet hissed. The two quickly looked to Ratchet, Bumblebee with a smirk on his face and Sam with a face that was ten shades redder than usual. "Do you not understand what I mean when I say no over stimulation? _Out_!" Bumblebee gave Sam a quick kiss on the forehead before his holo-form disappeared. He wished he could have done the same as he booked it out of the medbay, ducking from a wrench that tried to collide with the back of his helm. Sam could just barely here him laugh as he ran down the hall, likely to get to work.

Ratchet rounded on Sam as soon as Bee was gone, optics practically aflame. "And you know when you're doing too much! I bet your ribs are hurting again! You shouldn't have let that start in the first place! Rest! Now!" Ratchet commanded, pointing towards the pillow near the other end of the berth. Sam just scooted that way, trying to avoid eye contact with the medic. "And Bee won't be coming back anytime soon, I can assure you of that!" Sam began to protest, but he was cut off by the angry CMO, "I'll have Optimus lay down the rules if need be."

"Uh, okay, Ratchet." Sam mumbled after the medic finished his yelling. Ratchet simply stomped towards his private quarters that connected to the med bay, slamming the door behind him. That left Sam to wonder a few things about himself. He had just been making out with Bee, and _enjoying it_. That was absolutely not normal. Not even a little bit normal.

Carly left him because of Bee, though. That had to have been justified. And he was always close with Bee. They had an instant connection, before Sam even knew he was not just a car. Maybe… Maybe that connection had become more than he anticipated. Repressed feelings for his best friend that just so happened to be an alien robot? Was not entirely believable to him, but it made enough sense. It was explanation enough for him for now. After he let Ratchet simmer for a bit, he would go and ask him a few things. Who knew if more things had changed for him than they originally though?

.   .   .

Optimus Prime was used to dealing with complaints and other issues, the most common being complaints about Megatron. Many a 'Bot was still frustrated by him accepting the surrender, but they must remember that Megatron was his brother, in everything but actual code; they had started on the same side, although most people forgot that. What else was he supposed to do?

For the first time in a long time, Optimus Prime had no clue how to handle a situation, especially this one. He had hoped he would never have to. Luck was not on his side that day. He had known for a while now that Bumblebee had feelings for Sam. But he never expected Bumblebee to act upon those feelings, let alone in front of Ratchet. Bumblebee was always a rather shy mech, so why the sudden boost in confidence? Why choose now of all moments to act upon his feelings? Especially when Sam was only stabilized and awakened a little while ago. That was probably why, if Optimus was honest with himself. Sam had nearly died. In Bee’s shoes, Optimus knew he would have done the exact same thing. Well, not the _exact_ same thing.

Because of Ratchet’s complaint, he found himself standing outside of the scout's quarters, Megatron by his side as usual. The two tall mechs stood there awkwardly for a second before Megatron spoke. "Do you want me to speak with him, Brother? I will gladly do it! And the boy as well? I find you just need to humiliate your underlings sometimes; that is why my soldiers had more respect for their superiors than your Autobots seem to."

Optimus really, really hoped Megatron was joking about that. He sometimes could not tell with the other. "Megatron. There is no need to humiliate either of them." Optimus Prime fought the urge to pinch his nasal plating at his brother, knowing very well that it would not help the situation. Megatron was very aware of his quirks, even if they had spent the better part of the last couple centuries fighting against each other. "Would you mind staying out here while I go in to talk to Bee, Megatron?"

"If you'll stop acting so formal, perhaps, Prime." Megatron said simply, casting a look at Optimus that he knew all too well. _Oh goody._

"Brother-" Optimus groaned, knowing very well what Megatron was preparing to say.

"Just let me talk to him, Orion," Megatron pleaded, almost sounding desperate as he eyes his brother with crimson optics. "How are your men ever supposed to trust me, if not even you trust me?"

Optimus Prime felt his spark twist slightly at how Megatron used his original designation. He had to fight the urge to just say yes. He knew that Megatron was right. None of the other Autobots would trust him unless Optimus displayed his trust for the ex-leader of the Decepticons. And, he did trust his brother. Didn't he? "Fine," Optimus groaned, giving in to the other mech's wishes. "Just don't get into any trouble, okay? Or make this worse. That is all I ask of you."

And thus, the job of scolding the young scout fell into the hands of Megatron. Perhaps not one of Optimus Prime’s best idea.

.   .   .

Ratchet looked up at the soft tapping at his office door. He entered the code remotely to open it, and was unsurprised to find Sam standing there. He sighed, sitting up a little straighter and looking to the techno-organic. This ought to be interesting, to say the least. He could not think of what Sam might possibly want with him, unless he was coming to apologize. Which he doubted, having known Sam as long as he had.

When Sam did not speak, he cleared the silence in the room himself. “Can I help you with something, Samuel? Or am I allowed to go back to my work? You are not the only thing I have to worry about.” Which may have sounded a bit rude, but he was spread thin and did not have nearly as much time as he would have liked. He waited a moment as Sam shuffled about on his feet before finally answering with a question of his own.

“Would what happened to me have made me like Bee?” He blurted out, before continuing quickly. Ratchet just listened, watching the flushed faced Sam stumble over his words. It was somewhat entertaining. “I-it’s just- I mean, I’ve always _liked_ Bee, but not – uh, never like, wanted to kiss him. Y’know? I just- I’m  worried maybe the Allspark did something to me and I am worried and don’t want to hurt his feelings ‘cause what if this isn’t _me_ but something else and-“

 _Sam had feelings for Bee._ Oh. Well, Ratchet had always assumed that. But, if Sam had a point, and Ratchet feared he did, that his feelings were somewhat strengthened by the incident, then he wished more than anything that Perceptor or Wheeljack were there.

Thinking of Wheeljack made Ratchet’s spark throb painfully in his chest. Wheeljack had been gone for many, many vorns by then. His spark had lived on in the reformatted mech, Que, but he had never really been the same. He had still been just as brilliant, perhaps more so since none of his inventions exploded after his reformat. Ratchet had missed all of the explosion caused by the engineer, though, and while everyone else was glad that all of their new weaponry worked, Ratchet prayed it would not. He had wanted his sparkmate back. Now, with Que dead, there was no chance of that ever happening. His sparkmate was dead.

And sparkmates seemed to be the only solution here.

He gently picked Sam up, setting him atop his desk. “Samuel, have any of the others told you about sparkmates before?” It was possible Optimus at least had, but still somewhat doubtful. It was a sensitive subject amongst their kind, and none of them wanted the humans to be able to use it against them. The brunet shook his head, so Ratchet’s original assumption was correct. “They are basically Cybertronian soulmates, except ours are real.”

Sam snorted, one brow raised. “No offense, Ratchet, but I’m not a little kid. I won’t fall for that shit. Nice try.”

The medic glared, rolling his optics. “Too bad I was not lying. It is very real. I _know_.” He said firmly, pausing for a bit. He needed to muster up his courage and shove down any emotional responses before continuing. “Do you remember Que, Sam?” He got a nod before speaking again. “Well, before Que was Que, he was a bot named Wheeljack. Wheeljack was _my_ sparkmate, but he was in an accident and had to be reformatted. With sparkmates, you are just drawn to the other. You’re two halves of one whole.”

He got a confused look in response. “What does that have to do with me and Bee?”

“I think that you may be sparkmates.” Ratchet had to be blunt with Sam almost all of the time. “You do have a spark now. So, it makes sense that you would have a sparkmate. Plus, Bee has always had feelings for you.” He would admit later that maybe letting that slip was a bit underhanded, but he did not care so long as it got the both of them out of his hair. Bee could hate him later, when he was finally done with all of his pining.

Sam’s response was just to stare up at him in a mix of horror and awe before scrambling down to the ground and rushing away. It seemed Ratchet’s job was done here.

.   .   .

Megatron felt victorious as his brother walked away from the door, leaving him to scold the scout. It was likely a hard thing for Optimus to allow him this, especially when it came to Bumblebee. Megatron knew Optimus had adopted the scout, and he had always been rather protective of him. He smirked lightly, wondering how Bumblebee might react to this. He flexed his clawed servos before knocking on the door rather loudly. "Open up, scout!"

Bumblebee couldn't help the annoyed groan at the voice, wishing to bash his processor in because of what it meant. Ratchet decided to have Megatron, of all possible mechs, to scold him instead of the always regal and proud Prime. And Ratchet knew full well the history Bumblebee had with Megatron. Why would he have sent him? Had he upset the medic that badly? He slowly opened the door to his personal quarters, feeling a slight amount of anxiety wash over him. "What do you want, Megatron?"

Megatron narrowed his optics slightly before leaning down, forcing Bumblebee to look him directly in the optics with a sharp claw placed beneath his chin. "Listen here, you little piece of scrap. The boy, Samuel, is not to be molested, as the fleshlings might say, in front of anyone. No one needs to see how much you 'love' the little human, nor do they want to. Next time my brother hears of you two scarring someone's optics with your activities, I will personally come here and make sure you two are separated permanently, with no means of changing that status, got it, Scout?"

Bumblebee couldn't help the vigorous nod that followed Megatron's order. The claw was much too close to his throat and his finally repaired vocoder. That was one of the only things keeping him from fighting, the memory of how he had lost it long ago still fresh in his mind. He also was hesitant to fight the other due to the fact that he had finally rejoined them, and Bee knew how Optimus cared for the mech. He would not fight the other, possibly get injured, and then have to listen to a lecture from his guardian on why he must ignore Megatron’s teasing and such. “Good," Megatron retracted his claws, and Bumblebee could not stop his whole body from visibly relaxing once it was away from his throat. "Now, I suggest you go apologize to the medic you disturbed. Otherwise, I may have to deal with you like I might have my own men, got it, Scout?" Not that Orion would ever let him, but Bee did not have to know that.

"Bumblebee."

Megatron froze, his crimson optics glaring holes into the yellow mech. "What?" He asked, voice a low growl.

"My designation is Bumblebee, sir," Bee made sure to tack on the sir out of respect. No point aggravating the mech anymore. He just wanted Megatron gone so he could go back to sulking.

"I do not care what your meaningless designation is! I will call you whatever I see fit, Scout!" Megatron growled before stomping out of the room. He wanted to go blow off some steam, and doing so here was not going to work out. He would likely kill the scout, if left to his own devices. Orion would never forgive him.

"Smooth move, Ex-lax," A young voice grumbled through Bee's speakers. He shook his helm in dismay at what may just happen now that Megatron was pissed off with him. He did not have time to think about that because another knock sounded from the other side of his door. He stood up straight, not wanting to seem all down-trodden in case it was one of the twins who had come to make fun of him. Yet, he was pretty sure it wasn't; this spark signature was much different from any of the other Autobots'.

"Hello?" He asked as he opened the door with one of his servos. He was slightly startled when he didn't see anyone, until he looked down of course. "Sam!" He wasted no time in snatching his charge up into one servo so that the young man is optic level with him. "Ratchet let you out of the med bay?"

"Only for a little bit," Sam's answer had a twinge of awkwardness to it, like he didn't really want to be there. Bumblebee frowned a bit at that, or the best he could in his bipedal mode at least. What would cause the other to feel like that? Had he run into Megatron?

"Is something wrong, Sam?"

"What? No! Nothing's wrong," Sam put an odd amount of emphasis on wrong, which worried the yellow guardian even more. "Really, it's just... Um... Bee, we need to talk about what happened." And instantly Bee's spark dropped and his doorwings drooped. He could handle anything Sam had to say about what happened, right? Even if the boy said he didn't like him that way. But, why would Sam respond in such a way if he didn't? "Listen, Bee, let's just go in your quarters and shut the door so we can talk in private." It was starting to sound bad, especially with how Sam’s voice sounded.

"Okay, Sam." Bee replied, going into his quarters and shutting the door behind him. "What is it you want to talk about?" He would prefer to just get it over with. He should have known not to try and act on his feelings for Sam, but he had been foolish. Now he was likely to lose his best friend because of it.

Sam looked away awkwardly, "Well, um. Listen, I understand you like me, and all, and I like you, too, but um... Well, I just d-don't think that I am ready for anything super serious at the moment. I mean, I just lost Carly, and now all this strange stuff is going on with my body and-"

"Sam, you are rambling," Bee chuckled, sitting back upon his berth. He wasn't really paying attention after Sam said he wasn't ready for anything super serious. That just meant that he was ready, but not ready for too much. Bee could live with that for the time being, definitely. After all, compared to humans, they had all the time in the world now. "Would you kindly specify what you mean?"

Sam sighed, looking up at the mech's optics and calming at the patience he could see in them. This was going to be fine, he told himself. It will all work out. "Let's just take it slow, okay, big guy? I'm still not too sure how all this would work, and I am straight, I promise-"

"Sam, it's okay. We can just try it for now, see what happens, okay, little guy?" Bumblebee teased lightly, watching as Sam puffed out his chest indignantly.

"Okay." The smaller of the two replied, smiling slightly at the mech. His mech. Yeah, Sam could definitely get used to that.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about lateness. Life is a thing.
> 
> 7/20/2017: updated

A week later marked Sam's first night out of the med bay, and to say he was ecstatic was a definite understatement. But no one was more excited about this than Bumblebee. He could not wait to be able to hang out with Sam outside of the medbay, show him around the base they had established, and even go for drives with his friend. He missed simply being able to be around Sam without being around Ratchet, or anyone else for that matter.

The young techno-organic sat happily upon his guardian’s shoulder, smiling brightly as the two enter the Rec Room. They found all of their acquaintances gathered there (which Bumblebee had been aware of beforehand; after all, who planned the celebration?). With a loud shout of 'surprise' and a rather large amount of confetti, the 'Bots and humans welcomed Sam back. The boy could not help his bright smile as Bumblebee lowered him into the grasp of his parents. The two immediately began to look over their son, making sure that he was indeed alive.

Bumblebee took this little bit of time to mingle with the other 'Bots, having spent most of his time as of late in the med bay with Sam. The first mech to greet him was Optimus, giving him a strong pat on the back and a kind smile. "Be careful, Bumblebee," Optimus seemingly ordered, still maintaining the kind expression on his faceplate. Bee knew better, could feel the joy the other felt for him over the guardian bond they shared.

"I will, sir," Bumblebee's answered as he moved away and through the sea of metal and flesh, searching for two mechs in particular. He gently steps around the Lennox and Epps families, waving down to the little kids who wave eagerly back up at him. He continued to drift through the crowd, tossing out assorted greetings and such. Until he found two servos clasped onto his shoulders from behind.

"Look who it is, the bumbling little Bee!" Two voices chimed in unison, in a rather frightening fashion.

"Where's your human?"

"Yeah, where is the little squirt?"

Bee turned to face the gold and silver mechs, chuckling lightly, "Hey Sunny, Sides. Sam is over with his parents." Bee noticed their devious expressions and felt his spark drop. "What are you two planning now?"

"Nothing!" The silver and gold mechs chimed together in a sing-song fashion before scampering away laughing. Definitely not a good sign.

"Ignore them, 'Bee," Ironhide advised as he came up and placed a servo on one of the yellow mech's shoulder struts. "They're just... Well, ya know the twins." He shrugged indifferently before chuckling at the exasperated look on Bumblebee's faceplate. "So, how is Sam, anyways? Has he adjusted to being part Cybertronian yet?" Ironhide's questions were rather timid for the typically boisterous weapon specialist. He had not yet apologized about yelling at Bumblebee so harshly about Sam’s attempt at suicide. He knew it was not really his fault, and Ironhide was not a mech that would typically say something so harsh as what he had. He honestly was not sure what had come over him at that moment.

"Somewhat," Bumblebee replied as he let his optics search for Sam amongst the crowd. "He was real scarred by the whole, 'interfacing' talk, but seems to have come out of the ordeal otherwise unscathed." He chuckled slightly as Ironhide gave him an odd look. "At least, that is what Ratchet said." Both mechs found themselves laughing at that, easily breaking the small amount of tension that had settled itself between them. It was not rare for two Autobots to have a falling out like theirs, but such things were not entirely unheard of. To say that all of the room's occupants who picked up on the shared laughter were relieved was an understatement in and of itself.

"Bee!" Sam called, pulling the yellow scout's attention from Ironhide as he ran around the walkways that were suspended from the ceiling of the hanger-turned-Rec-room to his guardian. His face was alight with joy as he skids to a stop on the strip by Ironhide and Bumblebee, looking both mechs in the face. "Guess who is here!"

"Who?" Bumblebee asked to appease his charges excitement.

"Miles and Leo! They both came!"

Bumblebee's groan was heard by everyone as his shoulder struts fell in dismay, as did his doorwings. "Which one threw up in me?" He asked, his voice exasperated and distraught at the memory.

Sam and Ironhide, as well as a few others nearby, chuckled as Sam answered, "That would be both of them."

"Wonderful..."

"Sam!" A voice that maturity seemed to have skipped over called for him, slightly startling the scout and his charge. They both watched as Sam's childhood friend Miles, a boy with long, shaggy, dirty blond hair and deep blue eyes, rushed through the crowd towards the stairs to get on the catwalk. He tripped several times over his own feet, mumbling excuse me as he charged up to the catwalk.

"Miles, man! What's up?" Sam greeted, a smile bright on his face. He really had missed Miles, and regretted not keeping in better contact with him.

"Not much on my end, but apparently a shit ton on yours! Seriously, dude, keep a bro updated! Facebook, Twitter, something," Miles complained, smiling all the while as he hugged his friend tightly. Sam knew that the other was immediately going to bring that up. "I was left in the dark for a while there! I mean, you were in college a full year before I heard anything! A year, man! Not cool!"

Sam laughed softly as he and Miles separated, his smile easing away slightly. "Well, a lot happened that first year. There was the Fallen, and then exams and-"

"Mikaela." Mile inserted, intending to help out but having the opposite affect entirely. "And I guess Carly, too, now."

Sam winced at the mention of both names, and gladly welcomed Bumblebee's holoform's comforting hug from behind. "Yeah. There's that. And now all of this." Sam says, his voice sobering with each word. "But, hey, I'm a survivor." He shrugged slightly, ignoring how Miles gawked at Bumblebee's arms wrapped around his waist. "So, anything new on your end? Still going to TCC?"

Miles pushed his confusion at the new man and his old friend's closeness aside, returning to his typical state of mind and beginning to chatter away. He went into several separate tales of odd teachers, and run-ins with Trent, the school bully-turned-fry cook. Overall, his life had been interesting, just not as interesting as Sam’s.

:You okay, Sam?: Bumblebee inquired over their personal comm. link, nuzzling his head against Sam's.

:Course, 'Bee. Just not really comfortable talking about... What happened.: He leaned back into the warm embrace slightly, not even minding that this was indeed his car, who was a male in his eyes, like he did a week ago. He had quickly gotten over that fact. :You don't need to worry about me all the time, okay, 'Bee? I can take care of myself.:

Bumblebee smirked, placing his mouth mere centimeters from Sam's ear and giving a husky whisper of, "You sure about that?" He could barely keep from laughing as Sam jerked slightly in his grasp, having thoroughly startled the male.

"-You two need a room or something?" Miles asked suddenly, scaring both Sam and Bee, who had forgotten he was there.

"Well-" Bee burst into laughter as Sam elbowed him, the techno-organic's face going a deep shade of crimson. "Just kidding, Miles."

Miles blinked at the recognition, slightly confused. Did he know this guy? And why did he sound like Bumblebee? And how did he appear out of thin air? Sam immediately noticed his friend's confusion. He swatted at the arms around his waist, brows furrowing slightly as his guardian pulled away with a laugh. "'Bee, that's creepy when it's just us; it's even creepier when you do that in front of my friend. Hands- and servos, not leaving any loopholes this time- to yourself, okay?" Sam warned as his mechfriend's holo-form vanished and his bipedal form pouted. "Don't even try it with that look, I'm not as weak as I used to be."

Miles watched the interaction, and gears slowly began to turn in his mind as Sam easily went from talking to the mystery man to Bumblebee. He also referred to the man as "Bee", so, if Miles put two and two together... "Wait. You're dating Bee?" He asked, his eyes going wide. The blush that quickly graced his childhood friend's face was answer enough for Miles who felt thoroughly weirded out for a moment. "How does that work?"

It was Sam and Bee's turn to go wide-eyed now. Was Miles seriously asking what they thought he was? Sam prayed he wasn't, because he didn't really know himself; not yet at least, and maybe not ever. He was not rushing into anything here. "W-what?" He asked in reply, trying to keep his balance as his mind wandered down a path that forced a blush on his face.

"Um, Miles-" Bumblebee began to answer, stumbling over his own thoughts pertaining to how that might occur between him and Sam.

“Ew! Not THAT!” Miles cried out, shielding his eyes from his still blushing and slightly relieved friend. “I meant dates, you perverts! Gross! I don’t want to know how that works, okay? No thank you! But thanks for the thoughts. Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew…” Miles trailed off as he scurried away to locate some other familiar faces, anything to distract him.

Bumblebee’s holoform appeared beside Sam once more, chuckling as he chanced a glance at his boyfriend. Their eyes met and Sam glares at the devious smile the blond holo-form was throwing at him. The brunet shoved at the laughing boy, before prowling away in search of his other friend, Leo.

.   .   .

Leo was sure of three things right then; first, Skids was a dumbass; second, Mudflap was just as annoying, if not more so; and lastly, he hated those two dumb twins. "Okay, do you retards- no wait, calling you two that is offensive to mentally disabled people everywhere- you brainless assholes, mind if I go to the party now? I kinda want to check on my roommate!" He hissed, skulking away from the two annoying mechs. He cast a single good bye glare at them before rushing to the rec room, ignoring their complaints from down the hall.

"Damn idiots," Leo grumbled as he nears the entrance. "Those two need to be leashed, or just killed all together!" He threw his hands up in exasperation before rounding the corner and finding the rec room. "Hey!" Leo called out, drawing the attention of most nearby him. "The party king is here people! Now, where is my right hand man, Sammy boy?" Most of the Autobots near just rolled their optics, and the humans groaned. Mikaela, still a good friend of Sam's, motioned towards the catwalks. Leo smiled at her and winks, "Thanks, warrior goddess." He tacked on the nickname Wheelie gave her, smirking as she flipped him off.

"Leo!" The Hispanic male's head darted around, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, he looked up, spotting Sam waving down at him. "Get your ass up here!"

"Don't be so impatient, Samuel! I'll kick your ass when I feel like it, you don't have to beg." Leo yelled up, rushing to stairs much like Miles had before him, tripping every few steps as well.

Sam rolled his eyes as Bumblebee came up to the other side of walkway, where the male stood against the railing. "Bumblebee, why are all my friends so..."

"Weird?" Bumblebee suggested through his holo-form as it appeared beside him, watching Sam's college roommate come up the stairs with his partner. Sam simply nodded in reply, awaiting Bumblebee's continuance of what he was saying. "Maybe they just get along with you best. I mean, you do have a pretty weird life, Sam."

"Shut up," Sam grumbled playfully, his eyes twinkling as Bee grabbed his hand, a small public display of affection. That was abruptly interrupted by Leo pretending to gag at the sight of them.

"Whoa, man! Ew! No! I shared a room- no, a dorm room- it's smaller, trust me! Ew! I thought you were straight! You always had the hottest girls and now... Ew! No. Did you touch me in my slee-"

"Leo. Shut up. I'm not gay, because this technically isn't a guy." Sam stated, releasing Bumblebee's hand.

"Some tranny who's pre-op, then? Sorry to say it, Sam, but your 'chick' still has a dick right now." Leo pointed out, his voice still full of distaste. He had nothing against gay people or transgendered people, really. He just had an issue with the guy he _lived with_ suddenly being gay. He knew Sam dating Mikaela was too good to be true. She was one hell of a beard, really.

Then Bumblebee's holo-form vanished into thin air. And Leo promptly toppled backwards, eyes rolling back into his skull. Yup, Leo just fainted. And Sam would enjoy getting revenge by teasing him for it later. Sweet, sweet revenge.

.   .   .

Ratchet was not going to leave his med bay, nope. He wouldn't. He may be glad that Sam was out of the med bay finally, but this celebration was a little overboard. Was he really that rude to his patients? Did they hate him that much? Well, he would not join in on the partying. He had records to go back over, parts to rebuild for other mechs, and some discoveries he made while going back over scans of Sam. The boy-turned-cybertronian appeared to be emanating Allspark energy. Which could be either good or bad at the moment. It appeared to Ratchet that the energy was what was causing Sam to change. Each day, less and less of Sam was human, and the only things that were still left were his skin, the insides of his mouth, and hair, although those were changing as well.

Soon, Ratchet feared that Sam would no longer be... Sam. The CMO had yet to tell the male this news, mainly because of the party.

Why is it that all of his current problems came back to the party?

.   .   .

Megatron hated parties for several reasons. The main reason was that he found them simply too loud and closed in. He wasn't one for close contact, especially of the joyous or recreational variety. A good bout of hand to hand combat was okay, though. But actually standing directly next to several mechs that would give anything to kill you? Yeah, Megatron was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them.

Secondly, he didn't exactly like Samuel James Whitwicky. The human killed him, so who could blame him? The boy was the bane of his existence! Even Optimus, his dear 'brother', would not deny him the right- Megatron still hated himself for using that word to prove his point- to hate his murderer

Thirdly, he didn't have a good feeling about all of this. He told Optimus that something felt fishy about this all, but no! There was no reason to believe that something bad will happen, Optimus had claimed. Well, the Prime didn't have a Decepticon's premonition like Megatron. Megatron settled on his berth, shuttering his optics. He would simply rest as the others celebrated, waiting for either Optimus to return to their quarters or for a reason to say 'I told you so.'

Megatron only hoped that he won’t have the right- that cursed word again!- to say it after tonight.

.   .   .

Bumblebee watched affectionately as Sam slept on the human-sized couch in the rec room. His charge was quickly exhausted after a game of Just Dance 3, and had been sleeping on the couch for the past fifteen minutes. The mech turned on his holo-form and found himself sitting on the one bare spot on the couch, just above Sam's head. He let one of his hands lace its fingers into the smooth brown hair, his mech mode transforming and pulling up next to the couch.

"Huh?" Sam asked sleepily, reaching a hand up to swat at Bee's hand in his hair. "Stop it. My hair's hard enough to keep neat as it is."

Bumblebee chuckled, scruffing up Sam's hair even more. "You know you love it," He teased, ice blue eye glinting with something Sam has come very accustomed to over the past week. Affection.

"Whatever," Sam replied, a small smile playing on his lips as he rolled onto his side. He lay there for a moment in silence, ignoring the other as Bee continued to card his fingers through the brown mess. He closed his eyes and allowed the sounds of the others partying to filter through his mind. He could pick out each and every single one of the voices, a feat made possible by the changes that had taken place in his body. He hummed silently as his processor sorted through each thing said and filed it under various designated keywords.

He noticed three voices missing. Megatron's, whom he had not expected to come, was missing of course. Then there was Ratchet as well; the medic had instantly refused the invitation to the party. But, only Megatron and Ratchet had thought to refuse. Everyone else had accepted their invitation.

A moment of cross referencing with all the invitations and the voices of the Autobots in attendance showed him exactly who had missed out. And oddly enough, it was Red Alert, the Autobots' security officer. That was funny... Sam thought to himself as he shifted a little, resting his head in Bee's lap. Red was really excited about the party, even if it was a "security violation".

Sam opened his once green eyes to stare into the equally blue eyes of his boyfriend's holo-form. He adjusted himself once more as he sat up and tossed his partner a worried glance. "Hey, did Red catch a virus or something? I just noticed he isn't here."

Bee blinked slightly at the statement, thinking back to everyone he had seen and heard. After a second of cross referencing in his own processor, Bumblebee realized Sam was right. "Hmm, that is strange." He muttered, scanning the area absentmindedly. Red Alert had to be around somewhere. "I'll be right back."

Sam suddenly foud his butt connecting with the couch cushion as Bee's bipedal form rose beside him, holo-form gone. He watched as Bumblebee hurried over to Inferno, an urgency in his optics Sam hadn't seen since Egypt. It worried him because if Red Alert was really just sick, then he'll recover. Inferno didn't look too worried, so why should 'Bee? They were both just worked up over nothing, obviously. That had to be it.

"Hey, 'Bee!" Inferno greeted happily, a thing of high grade in one servo making it obvious that he was nearing what the humans referred to as "drunkenness". "How's it hangin'?" Bee noticed how Inferno's speech was a bit slurred, another effect of the high grade.

"Everything's great, Inferno," Bee replied, trying his best to not appear worried. "I was just wondering where Red Alert is."

The other mech froze on the spot at the question, though he did not appear to be extremely upset or anything. His voice came out softly as his optics connect with Bee's. "Red said he needed to check the security settings... Stupid worrywart just left me here." A sad tint enters the dull blue optics as he looked away, "He hasn't answered any of my comm's either."

Bee felt for the poor mech; Sam had a tendency to turn off his comm if he was in an actual conversation with someone. He had done so during a meeting with Optimus and Ratchet earlier in the week, and Bee completely forgot about it, of course. When the boy came back later slightly distant, Bee almost lost himself in grief and worry. It took him an hour to coax the boy into telling him what was wrong before he had to bring Sam back to the med bay. He rested a comforting servo on one of Inferno's shoulders, causing the other mech to look back up at him. "It is okay, Inferno. He's just a bit overprotective, that's all. Probably turned his comm off so he wouldn't accidentally get distracted." And the statement was partly true; but, anyone who knew Red Alert, knew that he was checking on the security measures because of his glitch, not really his overprotective urges.

Inferno offered him a weak smile in return, quickly returning to his boisterous laughter as Ironhide fell over. Bumblebee found himself being pulled into the excitement, his own laughter adding to the mix. Bee and Inferno ended up leaning on each other for support, the force of their laughter throwing off their equilibrium sensors slightly.

"Red!" Sam called out as he could just barely see the mech from around the edge of the door. He put on a grin as he stood from the couch, readying himself to scamper over to the friendly security officer.

Until he noticed how everyone else was frozen. What was going on?

With a brilliant flash, a plasma shot exited Red Alert's spark chamber, a strangled cry coming from a damaged vocal processor. He toppled forward as his optics began to dim. Red Alert had let his guard down for a second, and this was what he got. He was right to be so cautious over the years, he just knew it now. He felt his spark chamber, or rather what was left of it, begin to detach from him as he neared the ground. He took that last moment, his last moment, to send out a message to Inferno over their bond. An apology that he had gone against his mate's wishes, and now this happened.

-I'm sorry I didn't stay for the party, Inferno. I shouldn't've been such a worrywart.- His voice began to go in and out slightly, and he felt his end of the bond waver. -I... L-love you, Inferno.-

The last thing Red Alert heard were the anguished screams of his beloved sparkmate and the shouts of shock from everyone else. Then, he was consumed by blackness.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is where things really start to change from the original version, which is on fanfiction dot net. I advise against reading it, because you will just get confused. If you have for some reason...
> 
> Well, I hope you like this newer version better.
> 
> 7/20/2017: updated

Samuel James Whitwicky was not the toughest person in the world, at all. Although, the point could be argued seeing as he had survived multiple alien invasions and lived to tell the tale. But, that was sheer adrenaline and luck, in his opinion. So Sam would tell you that he was not the toughest person ever. He had passed out several times before for the stupidest reasons, although none recently. Sam even screamed once when Miles broke his arm, although the injured boy had not made even a peep. He got squeamish at the sight of blood, and zombie movies didn't always sit well with his stomach.

Sam did not, however, have a problem with Transformers, or their "innards" and "blood". Except the time that one had been inserted in his brain, but that was completely understandable. He only got a little creeped out by the interfacing talk he had with Ratchet, and that was partly because the medic had brought Bee into the conversation. When it came to Transformers, nothing about them made him extremely queasy or feel the need to faint.

Yet, it happened. As soon as Red Alert's spark was extinguished, he felt his stomach clench, and the room seemed to sway. His breathing became erratic, his spark pulsing violently in his chest. Energon pooled on the floor beneath the lifeless form, and the few bots around him were covered in pink specks.

Sam's eyes widened as he watched all the mechs ignore it, where as he could not focus on anything but that. He toppled to his knees as he tried to wipe the image of it from his mind, one hand holding him up while the other clenched around the part of his shirt in front of his spark chamber- or at least where it was hidden under his skin. He gasped for air as though he still had lungs, and they were not getting in any oxygen. It certainly felt like it. His insides hurt; they felt like they were on fire and being stomped on all at the same time.

No one was paying Sam any attention at the moment, though, so no one saw him writhing in pain upon the ground. The others were busy fighting off the intruders or getting his family and friends to safety. Sam could fend for himself, was what most of them thought. He prayed to Primus or whoever was willing to listen at the moment that someone would pick up on his life signal going haywire, or they would turn and see him beside the couch.

 _Bee._ He internally whined, wishing he had the strength to open his comm. _Bee, I need you!_ He whimpered, curling into a ball upon the floor as the pain became positively unbearable and he began to feel his consciousness slipping from his grasp. _Bee..._ Just as the black veil began to block his vision, his optics made contacts with Bee’s. Sam forced a weak smile upon his face as he curled up tighter, shaking violently with the waves of pain that racked through his lean frame. Bee quickly turned back to his opponent, finishing off the ‘Con before trying to push through the crowd to Sam. As he neared, he saw the smile slip away and the gentle blue glow leave Sam’s optics.

The cry that echoed through NEST base was the saddest sound anyone ever heard.

.   .   .

Sam slipped back into awareness what felt like seconds later, optics onlining to the most amazing sight ever. Before him was a sky full of bright stars as far as the eye could see. It was flawless, nothing like the sky he saw growing up in the city, or whenever he would visit the overlook. It was as if...

... He was actually in space.

"It's beautiful, is it not?"

He spun around, as fast as he could in the vacuum of space that is. His optics searched everywhere, scanning for life signs desperately. But he found none, none at all. “Where are you?" He called, looking all about the abyss.

“I am everywhere, youngling.” The voice resonated about him, sending a slight chill down his spine as he slowed his spastic movements. A calming feeling flowed through his spark and he blinked confusedly, “It is a pleasure to meet you, my child.”

“Y-your child?” Sam questioned with a hammering in his spark. “What do you mean ‘your child’? I-I’m the son of-“

“No.” The voice boomed as it interrupted him, causing the techno-organic to freeze. “You were once a human child in form, but you were always one of my children, Samuel. It has always been your destiny.” The voice ended in a much gentler tone.

“Destiny?” Sam asked back, being the questioning person he is. Everything he ever did involving the transformers seemed to go back to destiny. The issue with the allspark was destiny, his death when the Fallen had attacked was destiny, and it seemed that now that impaling his heart with the last remaining allspark fragment was destiny as well. Would he ever get a choice? Was his whole life planned out for him by whoever this being claiming to be his ‘father’ was? “Did anyone think that maybe I’d like a choice in this destiny?”

The voice answered this question softly, in an almost detached manner. “No one gets a choice, little one. Do not feel as if this treatment is unfair to you.” Sam frowned at this, to which the voice responded once more, “It may be displeasing right now, but it will get better, youngling. I can promise you this.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are,” The young man griped a bit at the invisible being, still displeased with the answer and circumstances in which he ended up here. He should be back at base, helping keep the others safe! Instead, he was here.

“Do you humans not put such blind faith in your God? Can you not do the same with me, my child?” The ambiguous answer was offered to Sam as a series of other questions, not really helping him come to any conclusions.

Until, of course, it all clicked into place.

 _“Primus.”_ Sam gaped, feeling as if he was not really there. “No way… This… This is not happening. I’m dreaming.” He tried his hardest to assure himself that this was not true. It could not be.

“It is, though. It is happening, right now. While the Autobots fight their brothers, and that little scout you are so fond of tries his best to revive you, you are here,” The voice sounded almost malicious, scaring Sam. “With me. And, here you shall stay until I deem you fit to go back to them. You have a lot to learn, Samuel, and this is unfortunately the easiest way to make sure you understand what I need you to.”

Sam’s spark rate quickened and he spun about, trying desperately to pinpoint a tangible source for the voice. “What do you _mean?_ You can’t just keep me here! Bee won’t let you!” He yelled in rage at the voice of the Transformers creator, trying to fight down the fear in his gut. There was no way this was really Primus; why would the ‘god’ keep him hostage here? Why Sam?

“Watch me, Samuel,” The voice was firm, and immediately the stars surrounding him disappeared. It was suddenly lonely, terribly so. “I will do what needs to be done to save my children, Samuel. And that requires your cooperation, my son. All good children listen to their parents, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” He mumbled, not sure what to do. He needed to get back to Bee, to the Autobots. They needed him. He could just feel it, deep in his bones. Yet, Primus was keeping him here. Why?

A deep chuckle resounded around him, “Good. I have much to show you, Sam, and not much time.”

Just as suddenly as the stars were gone, they were back. Sam called out to the voice for a little bit, still feeling that terrible loneliness deep in his soul. There was no answer, though, and Sam gave up. He looked back on his astronomy lessons, all five of them he had been allowed to attend at college before he had apparently gone suicidal. He remembered the names of several of the constellations he could now see right before him, and those he could not he gave nicknames so he could remember them to find out their name later. He made map upon map of the stars, always seeming to find a way to make a whole new one. He listed each one of in his mind, trying keep count of them, trying to occupy himself. And it worked.

For a long time, it worked. He catalogued stars in silence, hoping and praying that Bee and the others were alright. Sam was a ‘good boy’; he was patient and did not protest. But, he was only made to wait longer in the silence. And it was torture.

Until, of course, he noticed something. Constellations were starting to shift, coming and going as their stars and planets went out or died. Yet, one “star” remained true, remained bright. He tried to move towards it, and found that he could. In what could have been years or mere seconds, he found himself before it. It was beautiful.

It was Cybertron.

.   .   .

“Any news, Ratchet?” Optimus’ voice was a welcomed break in the silence that was filled by the ever beeping life support machines. Ratchet looked up from the frail form on the table before him, optics seemingly hollow as they focused on his leader.

“Just as I have told you once a day for the past month, Optimus, no. He is still there, his spark still beating… But nothing I do is rousing him.” His gaze moved from the Autobot leader back to the comatose techno-organic. Ratchet had been trying everything he could, _everything_ , yet nothing was working. Bumblebee had given up on him being able to help Sam and had completely stopped visiting, sulking about the base in complete silence. The Whitwickys no longer came around either, although Ratchet worked much better without Judy’s blubbering and Ron’s constant berating of how he was going about treating Samuel. Sam had stayed in this state for thirty-two days. Ever since Red Alert had been killed, Samuel had been in an unresponsive state that was starting to seem unshakable. And it killed Ratchet to have to admit it, to admit that there was nothing he could do.

“What about Inferno?” Optimus moved about the infirmary looking to his comrade who was in quite noticeably diminishing condition. “Is there any way to save him with a severed bond, or…?” _Is going to die as well?_ He looked over to his most trusted friend, light blue optics sad.

“I fear the worst for him. That puts a lot of strain on one’s spark, and even if he were to come out of it, to have to face the rest of his existence without his sparkmate… I do not the pain he would be in on anyone.” Ratchet turned his gaze away from Sam and moved across the large room to check on the machines that were keeping Inferno’s spark online. He adjusted the settings a bit, trying to keep the other’s sparkrate to an average level. If anyone knew the pain of losing a sparkmate, and living without them, it was Ratchet. They both knew that. But, perhaps, he could try to keep Bumblebee from losing his, bonded or not. Maybe they would not lose three friends from that fiasco. He could save Sam, right? If he gave it his all.

It was all in vain, though. He knew it, Optimus knew it, everyone knew it. It hurt so much to know that no one could do anything about this situation.  Ratchet _was_ the point?” He turned his anger-filled, hollow optics to the leader. “Why am I still doing this Optimus? There isn’t a point anymore! We’re low on Energon, the Decepticons still insist upon attacking us, and don’t try and claim that everything is alright with the whole Megatron situation! Ever since he came back, the attacks have gotten worse and everything has gone further south!”

The leader gave him a sad look, accepting the yelling and slight verbal abuse being thrown at him without letting as much as a hint of pain shown in his optics. Optimus gave a small nod, letting one of his large servos rest on Ratchet’s shoulder. “I can understand that you may feel terrible about this, Ratchet. You are correct to say that things are not looking good for us, but it has been awhile since things have. We just have to make the best of what we’ve got for the moment. We cannot give up. We are stronger than this.” His words were vague as ever, although he prayed they offered enough comfort for the other. There was not really much else he could say.

Ratchet brushed his servo off, and Optimus could not help but flinch a bit at the offended look he was given. “Maybe you are. But, Optimus, I can’t. I just can’t anymore. I’m becoming everyone’s mortal enemy because I _can’t_ do my job properly anymore. Bumblebee won’t even look at me! I can _not_ keep doing this anymore.” With an apologetic look, he stormed out of the infirmary. And Optimus just let him go.

“Always so dramatic, that one.”

Optimus groaned, letting his walls fall for the moment. “I am not in the mood right now, Brother.” He felt Megatron’s presence behind him, looming over him that way that his brother did so well. He waved one of his servos behind him to try and dismiss the other. “Just… go. Allow me a moment.”

“Is that what you really want, Orion?” Megatron’s voice was low, a tone Optimus had not heard in so long. It had not been since before the movement they started together all those vorns ago that Optimus had heard him speak like that. “To be left alone in all of this?” He made a broad gesture to the infirmary in which he stood so solemnly.

“Just leave me.” He snapped at the other over his shoulder. “Why would you want to help now, of all times? You did not come when we needed you during the raid, why should you now?”

There was a series of footsteps, heading in the other direction from where Optimus remained standing, his frame shaking slightly. The door on the opposite side of the infirmary opened, but did not close for a moment and the beeping of machines was the only sound left. “Because you cared for me, Orion, when you did not need to. You helped me get better after I caused you so much grief, continue to help me get to a better mental state, and I feel I owe you the favor. If not that, then simply because you are my brother and I _love_ you.” The door finally shut once more and Optimus was left utterly alone, in the room and in his spark. And it seemed too late to do anything to fix it.


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot coming for this one. Expect many updates in the next week.

 

Megatron was not an emotional being; none of the Transformers were in the beginning. They had all started out as machines, forced to work by the Quintessons until one bot rose above the rest to free them from their shackles. Then came the Golden age, of exploring and expanding, of art and science being one. Then, the discovery of spark mates and what it truly meant to live. That hope that arose from finding your other half did not last long, though. They began to stagnate, began to revert back to just workers in a caste system under a new overlord.

Themselves.

Megatron was born a nameless drone in the mines of Kaon. He was not shown love or freedom, not until he claimed it for himself as a gladiator. He was not emotion-filled like all of those other bots. He killed and killed until he reached the top of that gladiatorial pyramid, earning a name that none would forget; Megatronus. He was widely admired, as well as feared, and that gave him his first taste of anything resembling freedom. He craved it, but was so unjustly denied such. Then came the first emotion, anger. Just the one emotion, but the only one needed to put ideas in the mind of a young mech that would cause the downfall of a whole planet.

Orion Pax had much easier beginnings. He was an archivist in the heart of Iacon, Cybertron’s grandest city. Orion lived a carefree life where not much was asked of him, nor did he ask much of others. He wanted more, though, just like Megatronus. He broke rules, albeit minor ones, and dug through all of the archives. He learned of the past, of the then present goings on, and decided what he wanted for the future. He, just like a gladiator he heard make a speech in a recording from the fights in the pits, wanted freedom.

That was how they came to meet, the gladiator and the archivist that would bring the very roots of the Cybertronian caste system to its knees. They became comrades, friends, brothers. And, somewhere along the way, Megatronus found that he had fallen for the little nerdy mech that held such promise. But they were about to start a war, there was no time for such things. If they were to have joined their sparks, and then one of them died, their group would lose both of its leaders; such was the downfall of having a spark mate. Neither could live without the other.

Then that archivist became a prime; Optimus Prime. The jab at his spark, that this archivist who had never wanted for anything in his life before now, should be chosen to lead their people from the Dark Age instead of him. Not that he thought Orion could not do such a thing. But it had been his movement, his idea. It was the words that flowed from him that caused such an uproar! Why had they chosen sweet little Orion?

Megatron’s anger was reignited by the betrayal. He had stormed away from the only mech he had trusted, and that was that. The next time they were to meet was on the battlefield. He was glad that he had not propositioned the other now. This could have only ended terribly for both of them; to feel the other’s hatred for their other half’s actions.

To have to possibly kill your sparkmate.

Megatron became like the bots of old and locked all of his emotions away. Occasionally anger would slip free, but never anything else. Never. He was a cold, merciless leader of a revolution that refused to back down, even after what they were fighting for was lost. This had become so much more than just freedom for a race; it had become revenge. For what wrong doing, he could not even remember any more, but it was for revenge nonetheless.

He now found that after having given this all up and going back to Orion’s side (for he despised the sound of _Optimus Prime_ ), that he was so wrong. This could have all been settled had he realized before what Orion becoming Prime really meant. They could have gotten their goal with much less death, and could still be living on their home planet. He could have told the other his feelings, could have bonded with the other. But he had been blinded by jealousy, or something of that sort, and because of that they had all lost so much.

It only made sense then that he should be the one to set things right. And he definitely had the strength to do so; he was Megatron, after all. The only person to ever defeat him in battle was Orion. He was basically invincible in that aspect. He had fought whole troops of Autobots by himself and left not a single member of them standing.

Fighting off a bunch of Decepticons, mechs whose weaknesses he had memorized like the back of his own servo, would be no problem.

.   .   .

Bumblebee had lived an extremely rough life; he was sparked in the middle of a war, and had thankfully been adopted by Optimus Prime. All he knew his whole existence was war, though. He was almost immediately placed on a stealth team, because of his small size, and put on reconnaissance missions. He was a brave soldier, given his youth, and he was good at his job.

He was only a few vorns old when Megatron ripped out his vocoder. It had been a stupid move on his part, taking on the warlord by himself. But there was no other choice. At the time, he had ejected the Allspark from the Well, sending it into space and then on its way to Earth. He had gone so far as to attack Megatron to keep him from getting to the Cube, only to get his vocoder yanked out and tossed aside like a piece of trash. He was then run through with the mech’s blade, and left for death.

It had taken him a long time to recover, and even longer for Ratchet to get him a replacement vocoder. He could not talk for a while back on Cybertron, and when he could it was scratchy and hard to understand. He had vicious nightmares, and often times would find his way to Optimus’ berth to curl up with his guardian in search of comfort. The leader would accept him with open arms, listening to the chirps of the youngling language that Bumblebee was forced to speak once more.

Then, they fled Cybertron and he got sent to Earth.

He spent a long time, by human standards, on that planet all by himself. He contacted the others as often as he could, although it became harder and harder the longer he was away. He just dreaded it towards the end, as it hurt too much to talk to them all, yet not be able to see them. Then, he finally found Sam, and he was not so lonely anymore. He had a friend, for the first time in a long time.

It was not until he saw his friend lying there lifeless in the sands of Egypt that he realized the extent of his feelings for the human. And it appeared then that he was too little too late. Not that it would have mattered either way, for the boy was with Mikaela and had no interest in Transformers that could be seen as romantic. Seemed that fate really did not want to be on Bumblebee’s side, ever.

Then Sam met Carly, immediately after breaking it off with Mikaela.

Carly hated him, and his kind. She absolutely refused to ride with Sam and Bee anywhere, opting to drive about in a normal human car instead of Sam’s best friend. She despised the thought of him entering their shared home, and would yell at Sam whenever she came back and Bee was lounging about with his friend. Eventually, Sam began to put more distance between them, and Bumblebee decided it was time to actually do his job again. Sam was safe enough without him.

He went back to Diego Garcia just in time for Megatron’s surrender. The Decepticon warlord was in terrible condition, and not seeing another option, had come to his old friend, Orion. Bee stayed as far away from the other mech as possible, although it did nothing to stop the nightmares from coming back. But he was older now, and felt weird going to his guardian for help, so he did the second best thing.

He went to Ratchet, finding comfort in the CMO’s grumbling. The older mech complained about _everything_. All of Ratchet’s complaining distracted him from his own problems, kept his mind off the nightmares that the Autobot team’s new addition brought along. He helped the other organize his supplies whenever he showed up, although he was not the best at it, and was often scolded for dropping something or putting it in the wrong place. Bumblebee would apologize, then continue about helping until Ratchet would sigh, shaking his helm. _“Go recharge, ‘Bee.”_ He would request, grabbing some sedatives to give the other. _“This will help with the night terrors.”_

Then, a whole six human months into Megatron’s return, Bumblebee’s vocoder, his _own_ vocoder, was fixed at last. No more chirps and whistles, no more obnoxious radio clips, just his voice. It was so very freeing to be completely _him_ once more. The Autobots and NEST members threw him a party to celebrate, inviting all their other human friends. Everyone showed, too.

Except Sam and Carly.

The next day, Sam tried to kill himself.

Needless to say, Bumblebee’s excitement was short-lived.

.   .   .

Inferno, much like Ratchet expected, died shortly after the CMO left. He had a ‘funeral’ the next day, attended by everyone except Megatron, Ratchet, and Bumblebee. Optimus searched for them all, yet found nothing. Not a clue. He had attempted to reach out to Bumblebee with their Guardian bond, but the scout was good at hiding himself and his feelings. Megatron hid all the time, so that was somewhat understandable.

Ratchet, though; he never ran off. Yet the last time anyone saw him, he was driving off of the base. Why would the medic, one of Optimus’s best friends, just leave when they needed him? True, there was a lot of pressure on him, but Ratchet never gave up. Even when the other medics had said Bumblebee would not live after his vocoder was ripped out of him, Ratchet still worked desperately to save him.

It bothered the Prime that everyone was slowly losing hope, even himself. They still had many bots on base, and even more were arriving every day. They could most certainly hold their own against the rogue ‘Cons that remained, so long as it was not a surprise attack like the last time. However, a pessimistic state had taken over the Autobot forces since that attack, and now it seemed permanent.

The memorial service was short, most not wanting to dwell on it for too long. They each went around, telling of their favorite memory of their now lost friend. Optimus was the last to speak, telling of the first time he met Inferno back on Cybertron, right after the war had started. They were both so young then, so full of life. He went on to speak of when Inferno met Red Alert, how they had an almost instant connection.  “They were never separated from then on, in life, and now in death,” Optimus finished it off with, bowing his helm.

“’Til all are one,” the Autobots all said in unison then, some humans such as Lennox and Epps joining in. That ended the proceedings, from which everyone hurried away except Optimus. He stayed there, standing out on the beach where they had decided to gather for the memorial after having deposited Inferno and Red Alerts bodies in the sea; they could be closer to them here. And now, with this thought in mind, Optimus did not want to leave. Everything was falling apart at the seams, and it was hitting him hard now.

He longed for the days of being simply Orion Pax, when he could let these feelings out. He wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and curse Primus for dealing him such a terrible hand in life. Yet, a Prime was supposed to be strong, show no emotion other than what would encourage his people. How would breaking down at a time like this do that?

So Optimus stood in silence until the tide was coming in and the moon was high in the sky. He let his thoughts wander far enough away that he did not even notice when Lennox came and stood beside him until the human lightly patted his leg. “C’mon, big guy.” Lennox whispered as Optimus came back to himself. “Everyone at base has been wondering where you were at; afraid you went and left them, too.”

The prime looked down curiously at the human; had they really? He wanted to ask, but his programming once more kept him from doing so. Instead he nodded minutely, leaning downand placing his opened palm out for the other to climb on. “I apologize for any worry I caused,” he said, his voice sounding as formal as ever.  “I lost track of time.” He waited for Lennox to climb on before he stood up straight and began walking back to NEST base. The two leaders stayed quiet for the most part, Lennox having settled into Optimus’ servo and Optimus not knowing what to say.

They were almost back at base when the human’s voice cut through the silence again. “Ya know, Optimus, we’ve _all_ been having a hard time dealing with this lately; even me. You don’t have to be so… Brick wall about it, alright? I think that worries everyone more.”

Optimus stopped his walking, looking to the soldier in his servo with a bit of confusion. He felt it was safe to assume that by ‘brick wall’, Lennox was referring to how he did not display emotions. “I do not understand your meaning, William.” What cause for worry did the others have? He was perfectly fine, on the outside. It was inappropriate for a Prime to display emotion, anyways.

“If you’re hurting, we are all here for you, big man. You just gotta… Let us know.” Lennox was sincere, shrugging a bit. “They’re worried cause when humans sometimes shut themselves off like you have been, they go and kill themselves. I tried to explain that you’re doing it for them, not because you want to die but… Well, the internet got ‘em good.” A little smirk crossed Lennox’s face for the briefest second before he continued to speak. “I know how it is, having to be the big man, make the tough decisions. I led a group of soldiers before NEST, remember? I’ve lost men, plenty of them. I know how it hurts, Optimus, to be the strong one for them. Sometimes, you can’t always be so strong, though. Sometimes you’ve gotta let go.”

 His spark stuttered for a second; was Lennox suggesting he actually give in to the incessant urge to ‘cry’, as the humans referred to it? How could he do that? Why would the other Autobots even believe he would do something as base as offline himself? It was offensive, in a way. “I am fine, William, but thank you for your concern. It is all unnecessary, though; I am fine.”

The human snorted, almost as if he did not believe Optimus. Was he not convincing enough? “Don’t pull that shit with me. I _know_ you aren’t fine, Optimus, and that’s alright. A lot of bad shit has gone down lately, you shouldn’t be fine. I’m offering to be here for you, Optimus, because I _understand_ why you’re saying you’re fine.” Lennox turned his attention to the base as he saw Ironhide approaching. “Looks like my ride home is here. Just think over what I said, Optimus, alright?”

Optimus nodded to Lennox, walking to meet up with Ironhide and hand the mech his charge. They exchanged a few short words before the two were soon leaving Optimus once more. The prime moved to head back to the beach, seeing no point in going to the base. Everyone was probably resting anyway-

:Don’t even think about it, Prime.: The ever rough and stern voice of Ironhide reached him over the comm link. :To base, now. Ratchet ain’t here to tell ya to rest, but I sure as Pit will. Now go.: Optimus turned to see where the mech was parked not too far away, Lennox’s head peeking out of the passenger side window. :I haven’t got all night to wait for ya to head in before takin’ Lennox to his family, Prime, so if you’d hurry…:

Optimus stayed still for a minute, completely stunned. Had Ironhide just… Well, obviously he had, but still. Optimus was unsure of how to react, just staring at his longtime friend and the mech’s charge. It took Ironhide telling him once more to head in to snap him out of his trance like state. He began walking once more, this time towards the base instead of away. He watched as Lennox pulled his head back into the black truck and Ironhide turned to leave.

:I’ll check on ya when I get back.: The mech grumbled before pulling out the base as Optimus stood just outside of the Autobot quarters. Optimus knew he was telling the truth, so went in to lie down in his quarters for the first time in a little while. He lay on his berth for a moment before sleep cycle took over for the first time in an Earth week, and Optimus did not fight it one bit.

.   .   .

Sam was not responding to anything any of the medics did. Bumblebee felt helpless as days passed and his charge lay there, appearing to be lifeless. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe often came to try and force him to get out of the med bay, but he never humored them for long. The other mechs did not bother like the twins did, knowing a lost cause when they saw one.

“Bee,” Sides urged the slightly younger mech to look up from the human’s form, nudging him. “Hey, mech. C’mon.” He offered a small grin when the other finally looked at him, “Uh… Sunny and I thought maybe we could give you a gift. To help you… feel better. Well, Sunny did most of it; I’ve never been the artsy type.” He shrugged his shoulder struts quickly as Bee tilted his head curiously, “Just come with me. The medics will look after Sam.” He stepped back as Bumblebee came to a shaky stand; he vaguely wondered how long the mech had been left sitting on the ground by Sam’s bed since they last fetched him.

-Are you coming?- Sunny asked impatiently over the bond, a rather well concealed flair of nerves coming through his side. Sides sent a wave of assurance to his twin as he helped steady Bee before guiding him out of the room.

-Yeah, we’re headed there. You ready?-

He could almost feel the other roll his optics through their bond, -You know I am. Just hurry up.-

Bee looked at Sides as the mech laughed softly, giving him another curious look. Sides waved him off and dragged him through the base towards Sunny and Sides quarters. He was as anxious as his brother, honestly, but mostly because he feared how Bee might react. Sunny was just worried that Bee would not like it. And Sideswipe highly doubted he would _not_ like it. However, he knew there was a possibility that this could send Bee into an even deeper depressive state. That was definitely the opposite of what they were attempting to do.

“Sideswipe, we’ve been standing outside of the door for a few minutes now,” Bumblebee says softly, interrupting Sides’ thoughts.

“Shhh. One more second.” Sideswipe instructed, swatting at Bee lightly as Sunstreaker opened the doors slowly. Sideswipe watched as Bumblebee’s antennas stuck up and his head shifted some; Bee was scanning, obviously. “It’s all good. Go ahead.” He pushed Bee lightly into the dark room.

Bee stepped in and the lights went on, his optics immediately locking on the far wall. He felt his spark stop suddenly, taking in the sight before him. It was bizarre, seeing his holoform and- and _Sam_ , the boy’s head resting in his lap and smiling up at him. He remembered this, remembered every moment with Sam, but this one stuck out to him most of all. It was so close to when everything went wrong, moments before it actually. Bumblebee did not notice when the twins slipped away, leaving him to stare in awe at the scene before him. He wanted to feel overjoyed at it, that Sunstreaker (for no one else had the mech’s artistic abilities) would do this for him. But seeing the image of the other boy so bright, so lively… it _hurt_.

“Sam,” He keened lowly, settling onto his knees before the painting and resting a hand against it. The aching in his chest was the same from a few years ago, from Egypt. The boy had actually been dead, then. No heartbeat. Dead in the sand. Yet, the boy had come back from that. Surely he would survive this. He just needed time. Yes, all he needed was a little bit of time. And Bumblebee had all of the time in the world to wait for him.

.   .   .

Optimus remembered how it once was on Cybertron, back when he was a youngling working in the halls of Iacon. He remembered spending all of his time sitting at his console, sorting through various video, audio, and text files until the work day ended. Such was the nature of his job. And at the end of each work period, he would head to the bar he always met Jazz at. They would share easy conversation over oil or the occasional can of high grade, then part ways. Jazz would head to his quarters, or sometimes pester this poor mech he was trying to court, and Optimus back to his.

Generally, Megatron was already there; or, rather, Megatronus. That was what his other half preferred to be called at the time, favoring it over his designation given to him in the mines. Optimus did not care, only wanted to please the other. “Jazz said hello, Megatronus.” Optimus- Orion Pax, at the time- would say cheerily each time he found the other home. “You really should join us one day. I’m sure you would like it there.”

“I would not fit in; the other mechs would simply spit at my presence, brother.” Optimus knew at the time that whenever Megatronus tacked on the term of endearment, he wanted the subject dropped. So, generally he would start talking with the other about their movement- for Optimus was very much invested by the time Megatronus had come to stay in his quarters. That was much easier than trying to get the other to go out with him. The few times he had ventured into the public with Optimus before their falling out, Soundwave had generally been with them. It was mildly annoying because Optimus wanted to _just_ be with Megatronus.

When he realized he was feeling jealousy, and why, it was a bit too late. Megatron had long since left him and was preparing to start a war. The mech he craved, who must have surely been his sparkmate was gone and hated him. All for something Optimus had no control over. He supposed that was likely why he could not find it in himself to kill the other, for he had many chances. Too many chances, really, to have ended the war before it took their home. But he was a selfish mech, and his people’s demise was his fault. But, there was a small glimmer of hope, when they had finally relocated the Allspark. They could save their home.

Until Sam used it to kill Megatron. Optimus felt the very burn of the loss deep within his spark. There was a reason he had told Sam to put the cube in his chest, a selfish reason. For, should he die, he knew Megatron was too far gone to mourn him. But not Optimus. That was the issue with their people. They remembered every moment from the time shortly after they were sparked when their memory banks were turned on, and he would remember each happy and sad moment with Megatron. He would relive his death until the time of Optimus’ own demise, and that was something he did not believe he could handle.

He had, though, even after losing his oldest friend that same day. It was very hard for a while, but Optimus did his best not to let his men know. A leader must be strong and have control over their emotions.

He wish he still had that same control.

An emergency signal had come in to the base. An Autobot hailing for back up from a Decepticon attack. He had volunteered to go himself, taking Ironhide, Bluestreak, and Jolt with him in case they needed any repairs. They sped to the destination, catching a few strain cons. They were nameless, at least to the Autobots; merely frontliners who, in the absence of a true leader, sought to cause trouble. Looked like they had gotten plenty in return. They were already heavily damaged when they caught them, Bluestreak and Ironhide going in pursuit of them as Jolt and Optimus headed to the signal.

He had not expected to find Ratchet there. The signal had been from an unidentified Autobot. Although, it could be the other there with him that sent the signal. It took Optimus’ processor several moments to pull away from the sight of his longtime friend, looking for all intents and purpose decommissioned. His control was slipping from his grasp, optics focused on the energon pooling from a wound in Ratchet’s chassis. Jolt immediately set to work, shoving the other mech there aside. The mech protested briefly, only then catching Optimus’ attention.

“Drift.” Optimus forced all of the emotions swirling through his processor and spark aside as he nodded to the mech. “I was not aware that you were on Earth. It seems you arrived just in time.” His optics flicked back to Jolt as he worked to stabilize Ratchet.

Drift nodded, “I hope so, sir.” His voice held a large amount of regret in it as he looked to Ratchet as well. The mech was in for one hell of a recovery. “I received word that the war was over. Seems the ‘Cons did not.”

Optimus nodded once more, unable to pull his optics from Ratchet now as Jolt worked. The young mech was determined, muttering to himself various things he must have learned while working under Ratchet. “Optimus, we’re gonna need your trailer to transport him,” Jolt said, not even looking up. They had thought ahead, thankfully, and brought it with them. It was just a matter of getting Ratchet on there and strapped into place once Jolt cleared him for transport.

“Will he make it?” Optimus doubted he would be able to keep himself under control if Ratchet did not. He needed reassurance that the other was going to survive this. He needed to know Ratchet would not die because he could not get there in time.

Jolt nodded, looking up at Optimus with a look of certainty that seemed beyond his years. “Yeah, if we can get him back and on an energon drip. The shot missed any vital parts. He’ll need some replacements, definitely for his chassis, but he will live. You have my word, sir.”

The sigh that left Optimus was ignored by the other two conscious mechs there, thankfully. “Thank you, Jolt.”

.   .   .

_… Systems coming online…_

_… Beginning start up protocols. Standby…_

_…Start up successful._

Rathet’s optics onlined, form tensing up as he prepared for another attack. Even with Drift there now, he doubted he could survive another beating from the Decepticons. He had been stupid in forgetting to keep up with his combat training, and would likely get an earful about it from Ironhide if he survived this. He braced, calling up his weapons and preparing to lash out when a servo settled on his shoulder strut.

“Ratchet, it’s me! Jolt.” The voice connected to the servo took a moment to register, as did their surroundings. Once they did, Ratchet shuttered his optics briefly and let his processor catch up with everything. He onlined his optics once more time, taking in the all too familiar sight of his medbay, Jolt standing by the berth he was on with a worried expression on his faceplate. He was safe. He was back on base. _He was safe._

If he let out a ragged sigh of relief, Jolt did not comment, and wisely so. “Report.” Ratchet ordered his assistant, sitting up. He winced at a pain in his chest, looking down to find his chest plating removed. It was likely in for some extensive repairs. Thankfully Ratchet was not modest about his protoform. He ran a quick diagnostic program, everything else returning fine. It seemed Jolt had done a thorough repair of everything. Jolt seemed hesitant. “Now, Jolt.”

Jolt sighed, nodding. “There was pretty extensive damage done to your chest plating. I had to replace quite a lot of tubing and wiring, too. Otherwise, they did not do any real damage to your internals. It would not have been the same if Drift had not shown up when he did, though.” The young medic sounded very grateful that the other had stumbled upon Ratchet. As rude as the medic was to most, Jolt did enjoy his company and did not feel quite so ready to take over as CMO. “As for here… Inferno’s spark extinguished the day after you left. Sam’s stayed stable, but his, uh, skin is what remains of his human traits.”

“You’ve done what you could. And a damn fine job of repairing me.” Ratchet nodded his thanks, smirking internally as Jolt stood a little straighter at the praise. “Is he still unconscious?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” Jolt’s posture sagged a bit once more at the admission. “He won’t respond to anything I’ve tried. I’ve never experienced something like this. I have no clue how to handle it.”

Ratchet expected as much, patting the mech on the shoulder strut as he came to a shaky stand. “Sometimes, these things just need time. He will come to eventually. I’ve known Sam for quite a while, by human terms, and have witnessed him come back from death.” He made his way over to examine their topic of discussion, frowning at how much body fat the boy had lost. “I believe that his processor simply went into stasis to help him deal with his body changing as it had. As you stated, his skin is the only human part left, unfortunately-“

“Unfortunately?” Jolt cut him off. “Why unfortunately? Surely he’ll be safer and more capable of taking care of himself like us. Isn’t this, y’know, a good thing?”

“It most certainly is not!” Ratchet snapped quickly, his legendary temper flaring briefly. He would not wish something like this on his worst enemy, and especially not on Samuel Whitwicky. He had already had so much happen to him because of them, and to add this on to all of that… “I feel very sorry for Samuel. We have only brought suffering to him since we landed on his planet. And now we have actually taken his humanity from him. I hope that he may one day be able to forgive us.”

“I don’t think it will be that much of an issue, Ratchet.” Jolt stated, shrugging some. He did not appear to be the least bit frightened after Ratchet snapping at him. If anyone asked him, he likely would have said he had even missed it. “I think Sam will take to this just as he took to everything else. True, he’ll probably be pretty upset about it, but like you said, he won’t be human anymore. But he seems to be really resilient. I think it will turn out alright.” Jolt nodded as if to solidify his opinion, looking over to Ratchet who was watching him curiously.

The medic shook his head after a long moment, moving away from Sam to check one of the monitors attached to his spark. “If even half of the Autobots had that sort of outlook on things, we may have won this war a lot sooner. Or all be dead, depending on how you look at it.” And with that, he set to work. He had a lot to do, especially if he wanted to get his chest plating repaired.

.   .   .

Sam eventually grew used to Primus’ occasionally harsh tone, opting to not argue for fear of what the other could do. He planned on being allowed to go home eventually. He had no clue how much time had passed, or why he was even being held in this in-between world. But he had long since learned that questions made his situation worse. He could play at being passive. He was good at that.

When the deity was not in an odd mood, he told Sam of the Transformers and their history. It surprised Sam, knowing all of what had happened to them as a species. They had complicated beginnings, starting out just with the Primes of old that Sam had once met. They were enslaved, though, after several of the original Primes had left them to search the stars for something greater or died. One remained, and he struggled with the same hopeless feeling Sam felt until he gained the courage to break free from the shackles and lead an uprising that saved his people. Then he faded to the background, taking a job as simply an archivist. He stepped up occasionally to advise the new Primes, but never did he take control for himself. That intrigued Sam. Surely he could have, yet he did not want it. As his people started to stagnate, Sam did not get why he would not. He could have saved them from the caste system that brought about their demise. He could have prevented the war. Sam was annoyed by this, because now a whole species was likely going to go extinct.

Sam did not realize when Optimus and Megatron had come into the story at first; he had just assumed that they had both always gone by the same names. He finally remembered what Optimus had once mentioned about knowing Jazz before the war and put two and two together. Megatron was a bit easier to catch on to. He listened as their tale unfolded, latching onto every word or image he was given. He… He saw a side of both of them that he never expected to see. He saw their love start to blossom and then with a few words get crushed by anger and jealousy. He doubted either of them had even realized it before it was much too late. It made it easier for Sam to understand why Optimus would have accepted Megatron’s surrender. He had thought the move was stupid before. Now, though, he knew why he did it instead of killing the other. He did not quite get how deeply one cared for their spark mate, but he knew why Optimus could not kill him.

Eventually, Sam could not fight back his curiosity for his own situation. “Primus, why am I here?” He asked, needing to hear something that told him he was not just here because the other had gotten lonely. He prayed that he would not somehow anger the other with his question, although you never knew with Primus.

“I am keeping you here while the allspark does its work.” Primus said simply, surprising Sam because he had not expected an answer so easily. “Your human body could not handle the raw energy of the allspark, so it is changing you, Samuel. That way you won’t die. You went comatose when Red Alert died because of the allspark’s energy overwhelming your body. Had you had better control of it, you may have been able to save him.” The voice trailed off with a thoughtful hum, Sam taking a moment to process the information.

“So, it is making me one of you guys?” That seemed the only likely answer, really. He… He was not sure how it was doing it. He knew his body had been changing before, but he was still partially human. Was he going to grow like twenty feet while he was here? That would certainly be interesting.

“In a way, yes.” Primus’ voice left Sam with more questions, the tone carrying more to it.

“What do you mean, ‘in a way’? Am I gonna grow an extra arm?” That was too interesting for Sam’s liking.

“You’ll see, boy.”

 _What_ \- Sam went to ask more, but suddenly felt his eyes snap open, body pulling in a long drag of air. His chest heaved with a few more deep breaths, optics adjusting quickly to the bright lighting above him. His body felt frail, head difficult to lift off of the softness it was resting upon. He rolled his head to the side, taking in his surroundings. His processor took a moment to catch up, still not booted up apparently.

“Look who finally decided to wake up.” He knew that grumpy voice; _Ratchet_. Sam felt his spark rate pick up, hearing it echoed by a monitor. The medbay. He was awake. _He was awake_. “Oh, calm down. You were stable the whole time you were out, don’t start causing trouble now. I’m sure Bumblebee would very upset to hear you woke up to find you died shortly after.” There was gruff affection to that tone, though. God, how Sam had missed it. He felt a sob escape him, tears no longer coming forth. His body had changed, but he could worry about that later. _He was awake._


	7. 7

The Deceptions were not nearly as coordinated as Megatron had originally expected. A few of them stayed grouped together, of course, but no one was leading them. It was shameful. He had built the mechs up from nothing, yet that was what they returned to without his guidance. They were easy to scatter or maim in this state, taking all of the fun out of it. There was no challenge, although he had expected there to be one with how coordinated those who attacked the base seemed. It was pathetic. Even with their numbers, he came out victorious; injured, yes, but victorious nonetheless.

He had not expected to run into Thundercracker and Skywarp. In fact, he had not heard of their presence on Earth. Starscream was still waiting for his trine mates back when the incident with Sentinel Prime had begun. He transformed as soon as he saw the shadows on the ground, taking a moment to recognize the spark signatures. Each of them landed gracefully before him, taking on more vibrant colors than the rest of the Decepticon contingency had when arriving to Earth; Skywarp was a mixture of black and deep purples, while Thundercracker had opted for blues and silvers. It reminded him much of the coloring the trine had taken on Cybertron, back when Starscream had favored the color red. It was not a practical color for his vehicle mode if he planned to blend in, though. These two did not seem to care.

“Lord Megatron!” They greeted in unison, at attention like good soldiers he remembered them to be. But, unlike the third of their trine, they had always been soldiers. They waited a moment for Megatron to acknowledge them, but when all he did was stare at them, Skywarp stepped forward.

“Megatron, sir, we tried hailing you or Soundwave, but received no response. We would have attempted to contact Starscream through the bond but…” Each of the mechs took on a somber expression just briefly before Thundercracker shoved Skywarp and snapped them both out of it. “No one else has been answering comms since we got here, other than a few grunts. One of them… They actually had the audacity to say you surrendered, sir!”

“Don’t worry, Lord Megatron, we roughed ‘em up real good.” Thundercracker added in, making to crack his knuckles like a human might. Megatron forced back a snarl at the action, at the reminder that he _had_ surrendered. But they were not there. None of them knew what he had been forced to do. What had happened to him. Many of them speculated about something being wrong with his programming, but it had been much, _much_ worse.

The dark energon had warped his mind and spark, almost beyond repair. It was a marvel that Ratchet had been able to purge it all from his system. Hook had once attempted, but wound up in more dire need of repairs himself. He ground his denta together, clenching his servo in a tight fist. Both mechs took a few steps back, remembering this behavior from before. “They were right.” He said, voice low and crimson optics daring them to say a word about it.

Of course, he had forgotten how bad Skywarp was at staying quiet sometimes; and Thundercracker was said to be the louder of the two. “What?! You can’t be serious! After all of this, you surrendered? What happened?”

“I lost _all_ of my men!” Megatron snapped, lashing out at the seeker. Skywarp went tumbling back, clutching at his faceplate where Megatron’s claws had done some damage. Thundercraker wrapped a protective arm around his trinemate, placing himself slightly between the two. “All I was left with were a few grunts, bots who are barely sentient! Mere drones!” His snarl echoed around them, thankful he had actually been on a rather deserted road at the time. “All of my officers were _dead_ , and I was not much better off myself! I did what I could to try and preserve our species! There are not enough of us to keep fighting. Our planet is _gone_ , the allspark is _gone_ , and soon all of us will be, too. That is not what I wished for us when I started this war.” There was a softness to his tone when he stopped speaking that frightened the others more than his rage. “You know of Starscream’s death, of course. Soundwave, Shockwave, Barricade, the Constructicons… They’re all no different. Dead. So, I did what I had to do to try and save our species and ended it. Unfortunately, not all of the grunts got the message, it seems. They attacked the Autobot base a while ago. Killed a few bots and sent the Witwicky boy into a coma.”

“So… You’re sided with the Autobots?” Thundercracker’s question was hesitant, and Megatron could not blame him for being frightened. While he certainly had a better grip on himself than he did before, it was still not good by any stretch of the imagination. He was known for lashing out any mech he thought showed even the slightest bit of insubordination.

Megatron nodded, “Yes, my brother and I have sided together to attempt to preserve our race.”

“It’s about damn time,” Skywarp grumbled as Thundercracker’s posture eased.

.   .   .

_Incoming Decepticons! All NEST operatives report to their stations! Code red, Incoming Decepticons!_

The alarm rang and rang, snapping Ratchet from his focus as he examined the boy- no, he was much more like a mechling, only skin distinguishing as him once being a human. Sam startled, accidentally sending out a pulse of fear through his comm. Ratchet hissed, overriding his protocols and shutting off his comm for the time being. Sam looked up, blinking curiously. “You need to get a better grip on that,” Ratchet lectured. “You’re generally pretty good, but anything too strong and you just start transmitting. It is not really fun for the rest of us.”

His head hung low at that, Ratchet lightly tapping him under the chin with a finger to get him to look back up while he scanned him. “Sorry. I- uh, didn’t know what happened. Shouldn’t we be hiding?” Sam asked worriedly, optics darting about. “What if they come in here?”

“This medbay is the second safest place here. The first is the brig. Would you rather be there?” Ratchet asked, all gruff sarcasm that Sam had missed. “Unless you’re trying to imply you think I could not protect you, then I would like to remind you that I’ve been alive longer than your people have had a written language and have been in my fair share of fights before the war.”

Sam held his hands up, trying to ignore the slimness of his own fingers. “Hey, I wasn’t saying that. Just wondering. Not at all what I was saying. I’ve seen you fight, Ratchet. I know. Just a bit worried.” He cut himself off then, trying to prevent further rambling that was likely to come if he did not stop himself. He had only been awake for a couple hours. Ratchet had been spending most of that time showing Sam how to recalibrate his own systems and making sure nothing bad happened in the process. It was slowly dawning on Sam just how little of him was still human. He could even pull up a sort of HUD display, which was both cool and terrifying all at once.

Jolt came rushing into the med bay, whips out and battle protocols obviously running. “Prime said to lock down the medbay. Do you wish for me to stay here?” He was bouncing somewhat on his peds, though; Ratchet and Sam could both tell that the medbay was the last place Jolt wanted to be.

“Who exactly is incoming?” Ratchet asked back, needing to know. Different mechs were capable of causing different wounds. If it made Jolt wait as well, well that was just a side effect of the question, really.

“Two seekers. Looks like it may be Thundercracker and Skywarp. Can’t quite tell yet.”

“Oh Pit.” Ratchet’s groan at the names startled Sam some as the medic seemed to go on high alert now, too. Seekers? Where had Sam heard the term before? “Get out there. They’ll need you more there, especially if I am supposed to play babysitter.” Ratchet jerked his thumb back at Sam as he started to set up various monitors. “I’ll ready in case anyone needs something more extensive than field treatment.”

“Yes, sir.” Jolt said before speeding down the hallway, somehow avoiding all of the humans at his feet. Sam waited until he could no longer hear the other and the medbay doors were shut once more before voicing his curiosity.

“Who’re Thundercracker and Skywarp?”

.   .   .

“They certainly didn’t pick very discreet colors,” Epps commented quietly to Lennox, earning a glare from his friend and commanding officer. The man shrugged, pointing to the sky where the jets were clearly visible. “I mean, purple and blue? No country has purple and blue jets. Are they sure these guys are ‘Cons, ‘cause I’ve never actually seen a ‘Con with colors like that. They don’t seem very menacing either. They’re actually flying pretty slowly.”

Lennox rolled his eyes, “Epps, I get that you’re in charge of communications, but that does not mean you need to “communicate” my fucking ears off. Optimus said they’re known ‘Cons, so we’re gonna be at the ready. They may be here to join up, but until we know that for sure, we have to be prepared for anything.” Epps sighed, mumbling a ‘yes, sir’ to that before heading back to his post.

Lennox looked up from where he stood by Optimus, watching the mech scan the horizon. Every other bot seemed to be humming with anticipation, yet Optimus was perfectly still. Although, Lennox could say the same for his own soldiers. The last attack had left everyone on edge. It was to be expected. “Anything, big guy?” Lennox called up to Optimus, hoping to catch his attention.

“Megatron is with them.” He stated simply, and if the Prime sounded at all relieved, he could blame it on the fact that they were no longer likely to be under attack. “I believe we can all relax. They are less likely to attack with him. Although, I must say that I was wondering where he had gotten off to.” There was a hint of amusement to Optimus’ voice as he sent out a comm ordering everyone to turn off battle protocols. He reached out to his brother over comm, pleased when Megatron accepted the link.

:Rolling out the welcome wagon, Orion?: Megatron’s tone was a bit sarcastic, which Optimus could not really blame him for. :I found some stragglers on my way back. Thankfully, some mechs still know what loyalty is. They will join your little Autobots, so long as I am here. No worries.:

:Are you hurt?: Optimus could not help the inquiry, having been separated from the other for quite some time now. It had been a terrible habit back before the war, and it was steadily becoming one once more. Megatron used to come back from the Gladiatorial ring or his work shift with various new injuries that always worried Optimus to no end.

He felt Megatron’s annoyance through the comm. :I am capable of taking care of myself, certainly more so than yourself. I am in need of some minor repairs, nothing Ratchet is not able to do in the next Earth day or so.: There was a brief wave of reassurance before the connection was cut off completely.

Optimus waited patiently as Megatron and the two seekers finally arrived. The seekers landed a short distance behind where Megatron transformed, following him cautiously up to where the main Autobot contingency was gathered. Both seekers looked oddly out of place, and Optimus noted that they each opted to stay truer to the bipedal forms and coloring on Cybertron than Starscream had. He was rather glad, really, that they had not shown up before a truce had been called; he remembered how fearsome the whole trine had been on Cybertron, and on Earth Starscream had caused enough trouble on his own. He hated to think that more of his men may have died if they had arrived a few months sooner.

"Welcome,” He greeted when Megatron stopped before him with Skywarp and Thundercracker. He ignored how they glared pointedly at Sunstreaker and Sideswipe as he continued to speak. “I trust Megatron has already told you this, but you are welcome to join us. Our forces have joined to help eradicate the last of the Decepticons who chose to continue their destruction of this planet, and your help would be greatly appreciated in this endeavor. Should you choose to just stay here as Neutrals, though, that is fine and we will all respect your choice. Ultimately, what you do now is your decision.”

“Where the boss bot goes, we go.” Thundercracker stated, and Skywarp nodded in agreement. “If he fights with you guys, then so do we.”

“Then welcome aboard.” Optimus said, nodding to them both. “We can get you set up with quarters soon enough. For now, you may stay in the rec room. Prowl will notify you of your assignment to quarters.”

.   .   .

“I doubt you know much about the culture of Cybertronian seekers; few of the mechs here do.” Ratchet said offhandedly. “They form a group called a-“

“A trine.” Sam finished, having heard the spiel about them from Primus plenty already. He likely knew more about their species’ history than Ratchet; he just had not bothered remembering every designation Primus had mentioned. There were a lot of them! “I get that. Who’s trine were they a part of?” The medic eyed him for a moment before Sam felt Ratchet prodding at the firewalls the medic had helped him set up in his processor.

“Down,” The medic commanded, expression stern. “Or I’ll use the backdoor code I put in earlier. Your choice.”

Sam blinked, lowering the firewalls easily for the medic. It had taken him quite some time to get used to the action, but now it was like second nature. “I thought you would have already searched my processor. What’re you doing, Ratchet?”

“I must have missed something.” The medic said, searching incessantly through Sam’s processor for anything out of the norm. He delved as deep as he could without invading Sam’s privacy and digging through actual memories. He scanned and scanned for anything out of the ordinary. He had never mentioned them to Sam, and the others had no reason to discuss trines.  But nothing strange came up. “Who told you about trines?”

Sam almost said Primus, barely stopping the name from tumbling free. That would likely not end well. He would prefer to avoid meeting the other again any time soon. He bit his lip lightly, trying to brush it off as confusion. “Y’know, I don’t know. I just… knew about them.” He shrugged lamely, knowing very well Ratchet likely did not believe him. If he tried hard enough, he could probably get the other to drop it. He just needed to not waver at all in his story.

“That… Is possible.” Ratchet acquiesced after a moment’s pause. “You appear to be lying, but I can see how that would be true. Like before, when we were dealing with the fallen, when the allspark had stored information inside of you, it is likely to have done so again. Granted, you are better equipped to understand it now.” He sounded very hesitant as he voiced all of this, eyeing Sam cautiously. Was Ratchet making an excuse up for him? Holy shit. “Also, there have been trace amounts of allspark energy on you. That makes sense.”

“You don’t believe it.”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe when it comes to you, Samuel.” And with that, the medic stepped back and went to sort through things in the medbay. “Skywarp and Thundercracker have returned here peacefully with Megatron. So, it seems I don’t need any supplies. You need to go properly fueled up. Just energon. Your reserves are alright, just top them off. And tell ‘Bee no funny business, you are still recovering.”

Sam grinned, moving to climb slowly down from his berth. He was a bit shaky, but not nearly as much as he expected. “Thanks a bunch, Ratchet!” He called, moving to hurry out of there.

“Samuel, we are talking later. With Optimus.” The medic said sternly as Sam approached the door. His optics left no room for argument, so Sam gave him a soft nod.

“Okay, Ratch. Comm me when.” He mumbled before scampering out.

.   .   .

News of Sam’s awakening spread shortly after the seeker scare. The base was bustling with all sorts of activity as quarters were made for the seekers and mechs and humans alike argued over seeing them and Sam. The three of them did not get to meet for a while, although they did not wish to; Sam killed their third, so it was best they did not meet. And Bumblebee was happy to keep Sam occupied and away from them. In fact, he was happy to keep Sam away from most everyone. He hovered over his charge almost obsessively, foregoing his work shifts to spend time with the other. Optimus excused it simply because Sam had been in a comatose state for so long, and that had taken its toll on Bumblebee’s mental state for long enough. He felt it through the bond they shared and knew there was no point reprimanding Bumblebee. Not then, anyway.

Sam was happy to spend so much time with Bee. He did not care how much the other doted on him and how Bee barely let him walk anywhere. He had missed the other just as much, if not more. Sam had nearly balled when he finally found the other while wondering the base that first day. He had just slipped out of the medbay, with the unfortunate promise of another likely awkward talk hanging in the air. No one was back on the base yet, so he simply wandered about in search of something to occupy himself with. He was nearly to the rec room when he heard the familiar heavy footfalls of one of the Transformers. He grinned, hurrying to find the source of them. He wanted to see everyone- no, he _needed_ to see everyone. He needed to know they were alright.

He did not expect to round the corner and spot the back of his guardian, doorwings slumped a bit low but he appeared to be alright aside from the fact. Sam simply stood there for a few moments, watching as Bee picked up on his spark signature and spun around quickly. Sam felt his whole body quivering with joy, and he most definitely did not feel like he was about to cry. No. He would not cry, not in front of Bee. Oh, but the other’s optics looked so conflicted and lost as he took a few cautious steps towards Sam.

“Please,” Bee’s voice sounded raspy, so full of emotion that Sam once would have thought a robot incapable of feeling. “Please tell me you are real, and I’m not just going insane.” Sam could only nod in response, fearful of what he would sound like if he tried to speak. Sam barely registered the other making his holoform before he felt soft hands on his face, pulling him in. Yes, he thought, moving easily and pressing his lips to the other’s. Yes, I am alive. This is me. I am real. He tried to pour each of these into the kiss, hands slipping into the other’s hair and gripping a bit tightly. : _I love you._ :

Things fell into an odd sort of routine on base. With the addition of the seekers, they were able to patrol further out from the base much quicker. The decepticon threat was seemingly no more. Those that remained either went into hiding or fought them. None tried to join. The autobots did not count this as too major of a loss.

Sam and Bumblebee were actually inseparable. Where one went, the other followed. Ironhide began battle training Sam, using a holoform to help Sam go over basic hand to hand as well as shooting. He was small, the size of a microbot or symbiote, so it was a bit odd training him at first, but he took to it easily enough. He could shoot as accurately as most of the autobots, and was more than capable of fending for himself if need be while waiting for back up. He certainly took to fighting better than other things.

About a month and a half after waking up, Sam lost the last remnant of his humanity. Ratchet said his form could not maintain his skin for much longer, so they went through the awkward process of… shedding it. Ratchet helped him program a sort of holoform around himself that resembled his human self, which made it a bit easier to deal with. But when he was alone in the quarters he shared with Bee, and he took down the holoform, he could not help but stare blankly in the mirror for hours. He looked like that Alice bot, almost, the one that had nearly killed him. All metal, but with slightly human features. Not that all of the bots did not resemble humans, just some more so than others.

It took a lot of consoling on Bumblebee’s part to get Sam to start feeling comfortable again. He watched as the boy pushed away everyone he had deemed a part of his “old life”; his mom and dad, Mikaela, Miles, Leo… The only ones Sam did not push away were Lennox and Epps, both of which worked on base with the Autobots so that would have been easier said than done. He even tried pushing Bumblebee away, requesting a separate, smaller bedroom put into their quarters. It was small enough that Bee could only enter in his holoform, and that hurt the mech deeply. He gave Sam his space at first, though, allowing him to isolate himself. Sometimes it was necessary. Eventually, Sam would come to him.

And he did.

Bumblebee’s internal alarm went off in the middle of one night, awaking him from recharge. He left his optics shuttered, though, listening to tiny footsteps make their way across the floor. After several moments, a small form crawled into his berth and onto his chest plate before getting comfortable and drifting off to sleep. Only then did he online his optics to find Sam curled up on his chest, fingers gripping his armor tightly. Bumblebee sighed, settling a servo gently over the other and drifting off once more himself.

This happened several times before Bumblebee decided to actually let the other know he was awake and talk to him about it. He onlined his optics just as Sam was climbing onto his chest plate, watching the other almost sadly. “Hello, Sam.” He greeted softly, startling the other. Sam looked to him with frightened optics, preparing to make a run for it. “Please, don’t go. You can’t keep running from this, Sam. This is unfair. It hurts to have you push me aside every day, and then wake up to you coming to cuddle up to me like nothing has happened between us. Why do you push me away, Sam? I have only ever shown you love and affection, yet you give me this.” A lot more than Bee intended to say poured out, startling even him with how broken he sounded by the end of it. He wanted to wince internally at the look Sam was giving him, but did not. He simply waited for a response.

He did not get one that night. Or the next night when he tried again. After a few nights, Sam stopped coming. It hurt, but Bumblebee did his best to not let it affect his work. He threw himself into his duties, volunteering for more missions that got him away from the base. Everyone noticed the change, finding it odd how Sam stopped going along. He gave up on battle training with Ironhide as well, but many saw that coming. If anyone approached Sam about it, the boy simply ran off. If anyone asked Bee, he would just shrug and say he did not know much about it himself. But they all saw how much it hurt him, how reckless he became in the boy’s absence. Many expressed their concern, especially Optimus, but Bee insisted each time that they did not need to worry about it.

One evening, after returning from a particularly long reconnaissance mission, Bee was awakened by his internal alarm. His optics snapped online, processor already overworked after not having recharged for quite a few days. What he found was Sam, standing awkwardly in his doorway. He looked like he desperately wanted to run, but did not. Instead, he slowly walked into the room and climbed onto the berth. He sighed, sitting beside Bee on the berth with his back resting against the mech’s thigh. He fidgeted awkwardly with his hands as Bee waited expectantly. Eventually, he spoke.

“I… I have this really bad habit of unintentionally hurting the ones I love.” Sam said softly, not looking to Bee. “I’ve hurt my parents more times than I can count, including before you guys showed up. I hurt Mikaela just by giving her a ride home that night. I hurt Miles by not talking to him. I hurt Leo by dragging him on a journey around the world and nearly getting us both thrown into international prison. I… I hurt Carly by not loving her enough. And I’ve hurt you, Bee.” At last, he looked to the other. “I’ve hurt you too many times, and I don’t deserve you.”

 _Ah._ It all made sense to Bumblebee then. That was why the other had been avoiding him; which, really only made the situation worse, but Bee would not bring it up. He stroked the other’s head lightly with a finger, shrugging. “It is an unfortunate side effect of love, Sam. One that I am more than willing to put up with, thankfully. Are you?” It was a heavy question, and one that Sam did not answer immediately. Instead, he sat there, staring up at Bee as if he was some foreign thing he was just seeing for the first time. And maybe he was, in a way. Bee just continued to stroke the other’s head lightly, waiting patiently for an answer.

He never got a verbal one. Instead, Sam pushed his servo away, climbing onto his thigh. He waited for Bee to finally understand what was going on and lie down before moving to lie on his chest plate, head over his spark. Bee supposed he did not need an answer as he settled a servo over the other comfortingly. Sometimes actions truly spoke louder than words.

.   .   .

It was a well-known fact amongst the Autobots that Ratchet’s spark mate, Wheeljack, had died in the fight against Sentinel Prime. Although, many would tell you he had died long before that, when he had to be reformatted after nearly going offline and had taken up the nickname ‘Que’. But if Ratchet heard any of them say that, they would have had a new collection of dents, and possibly be missing an arm or two. Many were surprised Ratchet’s own spark had not faded with Wheeljack’s, as was the case with most spark mates. What they did not know was that his was just fading much slower than most.

He had come to terms with the fact some time ago. The only other mech who knew was Jolt, who had operated on him after he had been rescued. Thankfully, the young mech had not shared this information with anyone. He had actually not known quite what he was seeing anyway, and had to ask Ratchet about it for confirmation, which lead to a long and drawn out conversation about sparks and spark mates. One question that had popped up was why Prowl’s spark was not fading after Jazz’s had extinguished, which Ratchet had guessed was because Prowl was on the other side of the galaxy at the time and had not known of Jazz’s passing until arriving on Earth to find his sparkmate was not amongst them any longer. He even asked why Ratchet himself had not died much sooner, to which he simply said, “Wheeljack would have preferred I continued living, even if for only a little longer than expected. Besides, your training is not done. I could not leave the Autobots without a proper medic.”

Jolt had urged him to let Optimus know, which Ratchet had absolutely refused to do. It was none of Prime’s business yet. He was not in critical condition, so there was no point. When it was close to his time to join the Well, then he would let his old friend know. Until then, he had work to do, especially with the constantly developing changes of Sam’s body, which now very much resembled their protoforms. He would need to discuss various things they could do for him soon. But, that could wait until later. Ratchet still had plenty of time before he joined his spark mate in the Well.

.   .   .

Optimus did not generally get visitors when he actually worked in his office unless they were scheduled visitors, like Prowl or Lennox. Yet, someone knocked lightly at his door, pulling his attention from the report he was working on for the American government. He sighed, setting it aside and calling for the person to come in. He was actually rather shocked when it was Megatron who entered, looking rather out of place. Optimus greeted him, waiting silently for Megatron to voice why he had come to visit him.

“It is tradition for a mech to ask for the Prime’s blessing before bonding with their spark mate.” Megatron said firmly, and Optimus thought his spark had stopped pulsing. What was the other saying? He could not be implying what Optimus thought, surely, because he had not mentioned being spark mates to Optimus ever, although Optimus knew he felt it. Fearing what he may say, Optimus simply nodded for Megatron to continue. “Although many have chosen to ignore this custom, I find it almost fitting now to follow the traditions of our ancestors, and ask for your blessing, _Optimus Prime_ , to bond with my spark mate.”

“You know I would never deny you such a thing, brother.” Optimus said weakly, finding the emphasis put on his name odd but not mentioning it. “Who is the mech with which you wish to bond?”

Megatron smirked at the question, leaning over Optimus’ desk. The Prime noted the playful twinkling in those crimson red optics, relaxing some at that. “Orion Pax. I’m sure you know of him. The little twerp seems to have found his way under my plating and into my spark. It’s quite tragic, really, but I believe the human saying is, ‘the heart wants what the heart wants,’ is it not?” Optimus only nodded, still processing what he was being told. “I figured it was about time. The war seems to have finally stopped, and things are settling down here. It seems only proper, does it not?”

“After so long, I imagine Orion would say to go frag propriety and bond with him already.” The words left Optimus, unable to help himself as his spark raced and Megatron laughed brightly. It was not that sinister chuckle he had grown used to hearing since the start of the war, but the actual laugh of the other mech from before everything had headed south.

Megatron stepped away from the desk, and from Optimus, with a smirk. “Well, he will have to wait a little longer. I’ll bond with him tonight, so long as he remembers the way to my quarters.” And with that promise, Megatron left Optimus in his office. He could no longer focus on work, the growing excitement of being able to bond with the other _at last_ almost being too much for him. He rearranged his schedule so he would have the next few Earth days off, knowing how it would take the bond some time to settle at first. Things were finally starting to look up, but Optimus did not know how long they would stay that way. He wanted to be able to savor every moment he could have with his spark mate while he could.


	8. 8

“The government is disbanding the program after the Chicago incident.”

The words ran rampant through Sam’s thoughts as he leaned against Bee. _What?_ Lennox could not be serious. There was no way that the government would get rid of NEST. They needed them to fight off any other threats, because there would be other threats; not human ones, but surely there were more Decepticons scattered out in space than those that remained on Earth. “How do they plan on fighting the remaining ‘Cons?” Sam called to Lennox and Director Mearing (whom he had hated from the moment they met, but that was beside the point). “Do you honestly think you could fight off another wave of ‘Cons like what happened in Chicago if they happened to invade again?”

“That is a matter of _human_ concern now.” She replied, emphasizing the word in a way that made him clench his hands tightly at his sides. She stepped up to him, arms crossed over her chest. “Last I heard, you were one of them now. Which means you, like the rest of the Autobots, are no longer welcome on American soil. You all will be given a week to get out of here before the government will take the actions it sees fit.”

:Optimus, this is slag!: Sideswipe was the first to complain over the Autobot team’s comm., followed shortly by his twin.

:After all we did for them, this is how they repay us? I knew we should have just left the little amoebas alone.:

After the twins came more complaints, the ruckus over the comm. growing louder with each added voice. Sam could barely hear himself think, let alone hear Lennox start to argue with Mearing before him. He huffed, sending out a loud burst of static over the comm. that worked better than the Prime’s order to be silent. He watched as many bots who were not in their alt modes flinched, covering their auditory sensors as if that would help.

“-everything they have done, you can’t be serious! They aren’t fucking freeloaders, these mechs are our comrades, our friends! Many of them have died and shed blood alongside us for _American_ issues, but when some of our people die in a fight for them, we can’t deal anymore?” Lennox snapped, temper obviously getting the best of him.

“There were thousands of civilians injured and killed in the Chicago incident, _soldier_.” Mearing countered, stepping into Lennox’s personal space and not even seeming phased by his more imposing size. “You would do well to remember the death count for _our kind_ was much higher than theirs. They were meant to be gone long before this, if you don’t remember that clever trick they pulled. It has been decided that that was the best course of action to take again. The matter is out of my hands now, General.” Only then did she seem to be even slightly remorseful. It was barely noticeable, though; the slight slouch of her shoulders and the dropping of the volume of her voice. She was upset with them, like many people were, but it seemed she at least saw that they were needed.

“Permission to speak.” Everyone’s heads snapped to Drift, who had not made a move or said a word since they had all been summoned several minutes beforehand. He waited until Optimus nodded to him before continuing. He leaned down some, speaking directly to Mearing and Lennox. “Your people are making a big mistake.” What he said left Mearing gaping before her expression soured and her eyes narrowed.

“Then it is our mistake to make.” Her tone was dismissive, and with a single snort, Drift backed away.

“And it will be your end. Others will rise, worse than the leaderless Decepticons you see now.” He went silent at that, watching as the director visibly fumed. Was Drift trying to get her riled up? Sam honestly knew little about the mech, other than what he had heard from others. Was this the peaceful mech’s way of trying to ensure they still had a place on Earth?

“We defended ourselves fine before you, and will continue to do so once you all are gone. In a week.” And with that, Mearing marched off. Lennox threw an exasperated look after her before following, still trying to plea the Autobots case.

Jolt was the first to break the silence among the bots. “That went over great.” Skids and Mudflap voiced their agreement, earning a few glares as they slowly devolved into fighting among themselves. Ironhide went to pull them apart, throwing them each aside roughly. They collided with various equipment about the main hub room of NEST’s base.

“You always had a way with words, _Deadlock_ , although I much preferred you silent.” Megatron snarked, pushing passed his spark mate and many others to head towards where the Autobots were quartered on base. Sam watched as Drift visibly tensed at the use of his old designation, an odd thing to see with how collected he generally was. “Should we all not get ready to leave? I doubt you all would like to start killing humans, but I see that as our only option to stay here.”

“There has to be another way!” Sam said, pushing off of where he was leaning on Bumblebee’s leg and walking to the center of where they were all gathered. “They’ll see they need you guys! They did last time, obviously, and they will again. Just because one threat is gone doesn’t mean another won’t come along.” Many of them looked on at him, few with hopeful gazes and others without. He puffed his chest out, dropping his holoform and revealing himself. He never did this outside of his and Bee’s quarters, but now was not the time to hide. He refused to, and he needed them to do the same. “They need _us_. Without us, they have nothing to stand between them and whatever else may come. So they want us to leave! Then, we make them think we are gone. We use what we are to our advantage.”

Sideswipe rolled his optics, waving a dismissing servo at Sam. “Says you. You don’t even have an alt mode. Hell, you could probably just stay here. They’d never know, right? You always keep up that pathetic little hologram when around them. Why stop now?” He sneered, actually causing Sam to take a step back in shock.

“Enough.” The deep baritone of Optimus’ voice pulled everyone’s attention to where he stood. “The humans wish us to leave, so we will leave.” An uproar rose up from the group, just like on the comm. but slowly getting worse. It continued on for a few brief moments, the only ones not joining in being Bumblebee, Megatron, Ratchet, Sam, and Optimus. Megatron cast his spark mate a single, long look before slipping out of the room. Optimus straightened some, raising his voice again. “ _Enough!_ ”

The whole room went dead silent, each of them stilling. Optics turned to the Prime, many noticing the fury in those deep blue optics. “We will leave here. It is what they want, so we will do it. And, should they need us, we will help them.” More protests began but soon stopped after Optimus held up a servo. “We have found some friends amongst the humans. We will protect them should it become necessary. Until then, we must hide. It is all we can do.”

.   .   .

Preparations went slow. Optimus had deemed it necessary to move most of the Autobot contingency to the moon, where they were less likely to be found. Thankfully, the Wreckers were as good at building as they were at destroying and easily outfitted a ship to take some of them there. Most of them went. Those who stayed back were limited to Optimus, Megatron, Ratchet, Ironhide, Drift, Hound, Blaster, Bumblebee, Mudflap and Skids, and Sam. It was decided that it was in their best interest to split up, each of them taking on new alt modes to hide themselves better.

And for twenty five years, they drifted about Earth.

Sam stayed with Bee almost constantly. He took on a new holoform, which took much getting used to. Instead of his once brown hair, he had gone a few shades darker. His skin tone was a bit darker as well, and the eyes of it were the same piercing blue of his optics. It was like shedding the last of his old self. But, it was necessary for both him and Bee to stay safe. If they found him, recognized him, they would surely know Bee was there. He could not risk the other getting hurt.

Not after what happened to Ironhide, Mudflap, and Skids.

It was a while after when they assumed it happened that any of them received the distress signal. They had gathered quite briefly out in the desert of Nevada, as they had grown accustomed to doing occasionally. Yet, the two twins of the group had not shown up. None of them thought anything of it at first, of course. The twins were often late. They all settled in to wait, swapping various reports on what they had seen. It was nice to see them all, but Sam knew Bee was likely starting to miss being around the others more often. He generally spent the days following their brief meetings with the others silent. Sam had been pondering how he may try and cheer up his partner when they all received the signal. It came in a garble of static so loud it brought many of them to their knees. Sam was faintly aware of Optimus calling to Blaster to try and decode the signal while the rest of them adjusted their audio receptors so the signal was not as debilitating.

What Blaster found in the signal made all of their sparks sink briefly before filling with rage. _:’Elp! Anybody Sk-skids, he ain’t in good shape, nuh uh. W-we need ‘elp. They- they attacked us, the ‘umans. We need-:_ The signal had cut off there, the rest of it the static that Sam had come to realize were Cybertronian screams. They were all getting into action then, transforming and speeding away as Blaster worked to pinpoint the exact location of the signal. It was a chaotic mess and none of them were thinking properly.

None of them stopped to consider the possibility of it being a trap.

The fight went south immediately as it started. Humans came out of nowhere with weapons the likes of which none of them had thought they possessed. Their shots pierced through armor easily, one shot going clean through Mudflap’s spark chamber. Skids lay offlined beside him; it was likely they had both died even before they had arrived. The fact that the humans would shoot them anyway set Ironhide off, and he went in cannons blazing with the others close on his heels. Each blast from the humans’ weapons actually sent them stumbling back.

That did not stop Ironhide, though. The mech saw red, his optics shifting into a sickeningly dark crimson in his rage. He shot at anyone foolish enough to get in his way as he tore to the people who had fired at the once lively and annoying twins. He smacked away the few humans who ran at him with net guns, sending them crashing into what few abandoned buildings lay around them.  The others provided some cover fire, Ratchet roaring up behind him. He had vowed never again to give up on a patient, especially after Inferno.

The shot that ripped through Ironhide’s spark came seemingly from out of nowhere. The mech staggered in his rampage, a shaking servo rising to his chest. He stumbled forward a few more steps before crashing to the ground. Ratchet’s attention quickly shifted to Ironhide, sliding to a stop beside him and starting to work furiously. Weapons were fired all around them, smaller rounds pinging off of his armor. This was most certainly not happening. Not Ironhide, of all mechs. Ratchet had seen this same mech fight off hordes of Decepticons _blinded_ by Dark Energon whips, yet this was to be his demise? No, he simply would not allow it.

“Ironhide!” Sam’s voice cried out from where he had taken cover amongst the rubble, Bee providing cover fire from beside him. He peeked around, shielding his optics and helm as concrete fell around them. He felt a familiar sense of queasiness wash over him, a throbbing in his processor causing him to cry out once more in pain. He needed to move. Yes, he need to get to Ironhide. He charged from their cover, ignoring the heat of battle around him. He heard Bee whir desperately for him, Blaster calling to him as well. Their concern did not matter, though. He had to get to Ironhide without purging his tanks everywhere.

“Samuel, get back!” Ratchet ordered as he worked, watching Sam approach. He tried desperately to jolt Ironhide’s spark into a stable condition, though he was failing. “Get out of here, Sam!” He flicked his attention to Sam briefly to scan him, taking note of his extremely high temperature as he neared. “Go!”

Another shell like the one that took down Ironhide landed a few feet from them, sending a shower of dirt and asphalt over Sam and Ratchet. The small mech staggered in his footsteps, tripping briefly before collecting himself again. He vaguely heard Optimus calling to retreat, felt Ratchet close a servo around him and run from Ironhide. _Nonononono_! His spark began to race as he reached for Ironhide, crying out in vain as Ratchet rushed them away. He slammed a fist against Ratchet, demanding to be let go. A shock of blue shot from him, coursing through Ratchet and causing him to jerk in his movements briefly. The medic added that to a list of concerns for later, passing Sam off to Bumblebee and transforming to speed away.

Bumblebee transformed around Sam, speeding off passed Optimus and Megatron who still stood back-to-back. They fought with amazing grace and coordination, like it was what they were built to do. Neither had to speak to the other, likely a perk of the bond they shared. He sent out a quick burst of _worry/fear/pleading_ to Optimus, hoping his guardian would fall back soon as well. Bumblebee’s main concern, though, was Sam. The other had not ceased yelling and crying for Ironhide, insisting that he had to get to him.

Once the others were clear of the area, Optimus and Megatron transformed to retreat. Neither spoke as they fled, heading in opposite directions in hopes of losing their attackers. An unspoken promise to reunite when safe passed over their bond. Shortly after, they both closed their end of the bond.

That was the Autobots’ first encounter with Cemetery Wind. It would not be their last.

.   .   .

Hiding became their main priority. Make no contact with anyone. Avoid towns that were largely populated. They stuck to largely deserted areas, never staying in one place for too long. They avoided making contact without the others unless absolutely necessary. Propaganda was put out, labeling them all as enemy number one with Ironhide’s enraged form meant to show the humans why they were exactly that. None were surprised by the ease with which the American Government hid the truth from its citizens. It was easy for them to paint them all as villians now, with more than twenty years having passed since the Autobots were remotely relevant. New generations of humans had come about, those who did not know of the Decepticons and the fear they once cause the entire world. They only heard stories of great battles that brought them all to their knees and an ally that could not do enough to save them.

Sam occasionally visited his old home. It was difficult at first, and they had to make many preparations. Bee refused to let him go alone, and Sam refused at first to let him come with. It resulted in long bouts of arguing in the middle of nowhere until neither of them could find anything else to say and they both settled into a difficult recharge. In the end, Sam realized that there was no use trying to stop Bumblebee. He knew the other would follow him anyway.

It looked a lot like Sam remembered it, but with a very distinct lack of the family he once knew. In his parents once pristine garden and backyard stood a swingset. The driveway was now home to a minivan. His parents obnoxiously colored RV was nowhere in sight. The house was the same on the outside, but it lacked the touch of home each time they drove by. He wondered vaguely if this was how Bee had started to feel long ago. Each pass of the house made him feel more detached from them. He missed it, in a way: the constant nagging of his mother and father, the barking of those annoying lap dogs they always kept, and the strict curfews.

There was no going back to that, though. His family, his old life… Those things were long gone. This was his life now; the near constant hiding and fleeing from those who he had once thought protected him. The government was hunting them, the very same government they had helped all those years ago. He wondered vaguely if Lennox and Epps had fought alongside Cemetery Wind. Would they have refused like he hoped they would have on the grounds that these were their friends? He hoped so. He really hoped so.

Granted, it was doubtful that either of the men would still be serving anyway. It had been twenty-five years since they had last seen them. Lennox and Epps had both likely retired and settled down with their families in the time since the Autobots had been forced into hiding. They likely had grandchildren by now. The same went for Mikaela, Leo, and Miles. All of them likely had actual families now. The image of all of Sam’s friends, now nearing their late fourties, frightened him. The only reason his appearance had changed was because he had changed the parameters of his holoform. Otherwise, he would have looked exactly the same as he had years ago. It felt like barely a year had past, but it had actually been almost three decades since he had seen his friends and family. Most of them could very well be dead, for all he knew.

That had sent him into a very depressed state for a while. Any human he had ever known was either dead or would die soon enough, and he would barely feel the passing of such time. He spent a lot of time staring out at night, trying to imagine how they had spent their lives without him. His processor helped calculated the odds of each outcome he imagined: of Mikaela having her own body shop, Leo becoming some big business tycoon, Miles actually finishing community college… They all had likely long given up on seeing him again, as he should as well. But, that was the problem with being a Transformer; they lived long and never forgot, not unless something were to corrupt their memory banks. He would remember each moment with them, yet he would fade away into the dark recesses of their minds.

When he told Bee that this was troubling him, the other had actually laughed softly. He had run a single finger along Sam’s face as he spoke to him. “Imagine how I must have felt before. I had feelings for you before your incident, Sam. You’re strong, ambitious, brave… All very attractive qualities to us. But, you were human, and doomed to live a short life, to possibly forget me one day. I just happened to have gotten very lucky.”

Sam had rolled his optics, pushing at Bee lightly. “You say that like I would have actually forgotten you.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have.” Bee acquiesced, shrugging some as he leaned back in the warehouse they had temporarily taken shelter in. “But, you would have lived maybe another fifty to sixty years, if I was lucky. You would have died, but I would remember every moment we spent together, relived them time and time again.” The yellow bot peered at Sam with something akin to love in his optics, but Sam found himself briefly lost in the look. He laid a hand gently on Bee’s thigh, cracking a sad sort of smile at him. “Sam, you will go through this same thing when it comes to your friends and family, but imagine how much worse it would be if it was someone you loved deeply. Humans may bounce from lovers, but that is generally not the case with Cybertronians. We love one, maybe two bots, romantically our entire lives. It is just how we are. If you were to die, my spark would never truly move on. For me, there is only you, Sam.” Bee said this with such conviction, as if there was no truer thing in his entire life. He ran his fingers lightly down Sam’s back, taking in the little shiver it sent through the other. Sam stared at him for several long moments before climbing up onto his thigh, looking up at him.

“Interface with me.” It was a simple request, but there was so much behind those words. They had never tried to interface, mostly due to Sam’s squeamishness whenever the topic was brought up. He admitted that while he knew it was vastly different from human intercourse, he could not shake the odd mental images he got that combined the two. Yet, there he was, asking for something that Bumblebee had long thought would not happen for at least another century. “I love you.” Sam stated, putting his hands on Bee’s chest plates. “And I want you to interface with me.”

And that was that. Bee had long ago realized that there was nothing he would deny Sam, especially not this. It was simply a matter of waiting for Sam to want it as much as he did. It was a clumsy thing, resulting in awkward huffs of laughter as they shifted about into a position comfortable for them both that made it easy for them to connect to each other. But Bumblebee would definitely say it had been worth the wait. It felt so gratifying to finally feel that deep connection to Sam that he craved, to just briefly feel everything the other felt. Oh, how he longed for that deep connection to stay forever, to always feel as if his love was close to him.

He wanted to bond to Sam. He had long suspected that the other was his spark mate, but it took that first awkward interface to solidify the idea in his processor. Sam was it for him. He had meant it when he said it. He simply had to wait for Sam to say he felt the same, and thankfully he was a patient mech.

.   .   .

It took nearly a year before Optimus Prime finally opened his bond to Megatron again, not having deemed it safe to find the other again until then. He was surprised by the warm reception he received from the other, a pulse of _love/longing/want_ sent over the bond. It did not take them long to find each other after that. Megatron had headed into South America, finding it to be easier for him to hide out down there in the jungles than anywhere in America. Optimus met him half way, just outside of Mexico City, having been roaming the central United States himself.

They spent the first few hours they were reunited looking each other over, servos brushing against armor lightly in a manner that Megatron would have once complained about being “too human”, but could not stop himself from doing at the time. It was a while before he was able to simply settle down beside the other, taking in the clear night sky above them. Their shoulders brushed against each other, likely scraping Optimus’ paint. Neither cared, though.

“We should just leave, Orion. Our time here is up.” In Megatron’s opinion, it had been for a while. They should have left this planet after what happened in Chicago, but he had understood at the time that his brother felt the need to give his troops a much needed break.

He heard a long sigh beside him, “I know. But, we are scattered. We need to regroup. Then, we will leave.”

“They are _hunting us_.” Megatron tried to keep the bitterness from his voice, but failed quite miserably at it. The creatures had thought to kill them, and use their dead comrades as bait to hunt the rest of them. “We _need_ to leave.”

“Soon.” Optimus promised him, settling his hand on Megatron’s thigh. Soon could not be soon enough for Megatron, but he would allow his mate a little more time, if that was all he asked for. He would not leave without Orion, and the other knew that. It was just a matter of waiting for him to be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are happening and lordy I hope I can get all of this up finally lol
> 
> If you found an error that is absolutely heinous, please let me know. Thanks for reading!


	9. 9

Megatron wished that he had been able to convince Optimus to just have all of the Autobots leave Earth back when they had been given the horrid news that they were essentially being evicted. But he had never been very good at persuading _Optimus Prime._ Orion Pax he had been able to bend to his will for a while, but eventually even he had become able to resist Megatron’s attempts at manipulation. He was the first bot that was able to resist the sway of Megatron’s words, and he was far from the last.

He wished so desperately that Optimus had just _listened_ to him when he had warned him all of those Earth years ago that they should have just left. Alas, it was too late to go change that now. He had been the first to pick up on the whir of helicopter blades in the background; he had always had better audio receptors than Optimus. “Up,” He hissed, tugging Optimus to his feet. He watched Optimus snap out of his almost recharging state, optics shuttering briefly in confusion. His mate stumbled briefly, looking about. There was nothing around them at the moment except for the few buildings they had taken refuge amongst. “Up!” He snapped, both of them picking up on the sound of tires. He shoved Optimus a bit roughly to force him into action as the first helicopter came into view. It quickly honed in on them with its spotlight and they found themselves under immediate turret fire. “Run!” He ordered, firing a shot at the copter and starting to move as well.

The first series of missiles crashed into Megatron’s back, one straying to hit the back of Optimus’ knee joint. Megatron growled at the heat, feeling his battle protocols kick in with ease. He reached over as the Prime staggered, grabbing him by an arm and hoisting him up. “Must I always look after you?” He grumbled. The other gave a soft huff at that, shaking his helm. He watched as Optimus locked his battle mask into place and readied his gun. They rushed through the buildings they had found themselves to be safe in hours ago, Megatron taking the lead and firing at another helicopter that had appeared before them. It did not take much to take it down before it fired those accursed missiles at them again. He heard Optimus moving a bit slower behind him, felt the other’s pain from his knee joint over the bond. They needed to get out of here.

The first actual shot came seemingly out of nowhere. It pierced straight through Megatron’s shoulder, shedding some of the armor that had been there. He howled in rage, optics trying to find the source of the large round. That had been no human weapon. There was no way. He charged through the street, swatting aside the few assault vehicles the humans had brought with ease to clear a path for him and Optimus. Another shot came, and this time he was ready for it. With what Samuel had once described as, “an odd amount of grace for such a large being”, he side stepped it and pulled out his mace. He swung the weapon down, smashing the missile into the ground. He locked onto where it came from, and his spark sank at what he saw.

It had been a very, very long time since Megatron had bothered with bounty hunters. He had wiped most of them out when they had ceased to be useful to him. There were a few that had escaped his clutches, but he had assumed they would rot somewhere in space like the scum they were. He hated to find that he was wrong in this case.

“We have company, Prime! We need to get out!” He called, turning back briefly to check on Optimus. The other was staggering a bit, but made his way through the growing wreckage easily.

“Go!” Optimus called to him, waving him away. Ever the selfless mech, Megatron thought with a huff, turning to transform and escape. He hoped Optimus would do the same.

He heard the shot the moment it was fired. Yet, he was too distracted by his thoughts to react quickly enough. The missile pierced through his chest plate, grazing his spark chamber. _Primus, please no_. He toppled onto his knees, a servo hovering over the wound. He was getting soft, he thought distantly as he listened to Optimus yell for him. Once he had fought several bots at one time in stadiums full of cheering fans, and he had come out the victor every single time. But he had been so easily distracted for a brief enough time to get shot. – _Run, you fool!-_ Megatron growled over their bond, urging the other to leave him. – _I will be fine.-_ He listened to the sounds of shouting and gunfire, then the familiar grinding of metal that came from an injured mech transforming. _Yes, run._ He thought, shutting down the bond quickly to keep the other from feeling the pain in his spark. He turned off his pain receptors, a dangerous thing to do in any case, but especially battle, and forced himself to his feet to watch Optimus speed away.

If Optimus could put enough distance between them, he may not die with Megatron. Distance from his spark mate had saved Optimus’ SIC. Megatron hoped it would save him as well. He would just have to hold on long enough to ensure that he had the chance to survive.

He charged passed all of the humans, heading to the mech that had fired the shots. The mech retracted his cannon, smirking as Megatron once again brought out his mace. The ex-warlord let out a vicious roar as he leapt the remaining several meters between them and brought his mace down to strike the mech. A sword rose up quickly to block it, sending the mace flying back. The mech lashed out with the blade, sending Megatron back a few steps.

“You’re getting rusty, Megatron.” The other sneered at him as he moved to strike again.

Megatron growled, swinging his mace and listening to the gratifying crunch as it collided with the mech’s side. “You wish.”

The two mechs clashed again, a violent spray of sparks leaving them as they collided. The other moved quickly, striking with more power than expected. Important energon lines were severed as Megatron struggled to block the strikes. Warnings flashed across his vision, and he pushed each one aside as he fought back with more ferocity than he had been able to muster in quite some time. He would not go down without a fight. This mere bounty hunter, this space barnacle, would not get the better of the great Megatron. Not with Orion’s life at stake.

He was brought to his knees by a sudden rush of pain that forced the bond with Optimus open. The bond quivered dangerously, the other end growing weaker with each passing moment. He felt everything over it, unable to close it down and pull his attention from the other: _pain/fear/regret/love/pain/PAIN_. He clawed at the bond internally as it retracted from him some, keeping it close. He would not lose the other. He forced his strength over it, and in its stead he took more of the pain. The other had to live. He needed Optimus to live.

A dark chuckle over him pulled his attention from his constant consoling the other over the bond. “Well, well, well. Bonded to the enemy leader at last? How _pathetic_.” There were heavy amounts of disdain in the other’s voice, a servo gripping his chin tightly and forcing him to look into sinister green optics. “Autobots or Decepticons, you all just make such a mess. Look at what you did here!” He was forced to look at the buildings and streets, many now in ruins. He could not focus on it though, his sparkmates pain pulling him back to the steadily fading bond. “You all ruin everything you touch. So I am here to get rid of you for the better of the universe. I will fix what you could not.” He was pushed to the ground, watching the bounty hunter’s servo shift.

- _Optimus, go into stasis! Get somewhere safe and go into stasis!_ \- He urged, hoping the other was far enough away from him to be able to escape the humans and bounty hunter. – _Now-_ His command was cut short, claw delving straight through his spark casing. The bounty hunter glare down at him as he pulled up swiftly, disconnecting Megatron’s spark. He watched the other’s optics flicker briefly before crushing the spark.

“Pathetic.” He hissed, shaking the remnants of the spark off of his servo as he returned it to its natural shape.

.  .  .

Sam was forced awake by a sudden spasm from Bee. He fell off of the other’s chest plate, hitting the floor sharply as Bee keened. “Bee?” Sam asked hurriedly, standing and moving to help the mech sit up properly. Bee let out another distressing whir, pawing at his chest plate desperately. “Bee, what is it?”

:Attention all Autobots! This is Optimus Prime. The humans are hunting us. Stay in hiding. Do not-: The transmission that had startled them both faded into static before starting to repeat itself. Bee let out another pained whir, lurching to a stand. Sam watched warily as Bee made to leave the abandoned warehouse they were hiding out in, running after him.

“Bee, no! Stay! Optimus said to stay in hiding! You can’t just go running out there!” Sam yelled at his partner, slipping quickly passed him to the entrance and standing between him and the closed doorway. There was honestly little he could do to stop the other. He may have gained a couple inches by the end of his transformation process, but Sam was still only six feet tall. If Bee wanted to, he could easily pick Sam up and set him aside.

“He’s _dying_!” Bee cried out, “Th-they are both-“ The yellow mech cut himself off with a painful burst of static. “-dying! We need to help them! Sam, we need to get to them! They can’t-“ He fell forward, crying out at the sharp cutting of his bond to Megatron. His spark clawed for the bond, but found no remains of it. Instead it latched desperately onto his bond to his guardian. He whined loudly as he felt it weaken, clinging desperately to it as Sam tried to talk to him. He felt it sink away slowly, flickering dangerously. “ _No!_ ” Bee screamed, vocoder cracking under the volume of his outburst.

The internal game of tug-o-war went on for a few more long moments before he finally felt it start to settle and go dormant. Stasis. Not death, not like in the woods all those years ago, but stasis. Stasis meant his guardian could be saved. Yes, he just needed to get Ratchet to him. He needed to find Ratchet. He needed Ratchet to save Optimus. He could not stand the silence in his spark again, the emptiness that consumed him so easily last time. They needed to find Ratchet.

When Bee tried to say this to Sam, all that came out was garbled static. It was something that happened occasionally; Bee would go a while without talking, or talk very quickly and loud, and would often get cut off midsentence by static. He flinched this time though, servo rubbing lightly at his throat. He gave Sam a pleading look, moving to step around the other. Sam would understand. He opened a comm. link with the other, waiting moments for the other to accept it before shoving everything at him. He started with that day years ago, when Sam was just starting college. He shared the pain, the hopelessness he had not been able to properly communicate at the time. Then he sent him the pain of the bond to Megatron snapping, of Optimus’ pain, and of the barely-there presence of his guardian. :We need Ratchet!:

Sam was floored by the sudden rush of pain, both physical and emotional. He had not quite known the extent of his partner’s connection to Prime. Long ago, when he had spent what seemed like an eternity of his time listening to a god ramble at him about eons of history, there was a brief mention of one final sparkling being taken into the care of Optimus Prime. It had never clicked in his mind that the same scout he had come to know so well could have been this last sparkling. It made sense to him, though; he had often watched the other bots treat Bee differently. He had thought of it as just friendly teasing, and sometimes a bit of overprotectiveness that came with being the last of your kind. But, he saw now how that was not it. Bumblebee was the last of their race to come into existence, it was only natural that they all seemed to baby him at times.

“Oh, Bee,” Sam spoke gently, moving to climb up the other easily. He frowned at the lost look in those baby blue optics, something that he had found there more often than not recently. “We… We’ll find Ratchet, Bee. And Optimus.” He stroked his fingers lightly over Bee’s faceplate, trailing them lower to rub gently at his throat. His hand strayed over Bee’s vocoder briefly. There was a brief shock that passed between them, like a charge of static electricity one got from dragging their feet along the carpet, before there was a brilliant flash of light. Sam gave a shocked yelp, grip slipping and falling back on his behind while Bumblebee whirred loudly. The whir quickly became something more, the other’s voice coming back to him as the light subsided. “What…?” Sam’s vision flickered for a moment before focusing back on where Bumblebee stood above him, looking extremely frightened.

“We need to find Ratchet.” The scout said, voice filled with a sense of dread. “Now.”

It took them quite some time to get Ratchet to respond to any of their attempts to comm. him. Ratchet, like the other Autobots on Earth, was following Optimus’ instructions to the letter and not making contact with anyone. It took Bumblebee a few Earth days to even unearth Ratchet’s spark signature, and Bumblebee was the Autobots’ best scout. He had spent almost his entire existence tracking things, though, and knew all of the Autobots methods of hiding; he had even made some of them up himself. Once he had been able to find Ratchet, it was still an issue getting in contact with him. The medic was like a brick wall.

Bumblebee and Sam had a much easier time getting in contact with the other Autobots. Blaster was glad to be in contact with someone friendly, chattering endlessly to Bumblebee until he could finally tell the communications officer what the issue was. The generally light-hearted mech had gone dead silent for a while, before sending his coordinates to Bee. He was not too far from their location at the time, having taken refuge out in an abandoned bomb shelter in the desert. It was a day of driving before they located his base. What they found was almost laughable to Sam: a complete chaotic mess of wires and equipment, walls of various memorabilia, and likely hundreds of speakers.

“Welcome to my humble abode, kiddos!” Blaster had greeted from where he was hooked up to tons of wires, looking almost lost amongst them. He was largely unharmed, though. “Too bad we couldn’t meet up again under better circumstances.” The wires fell away as Sam and Bee made their way through the maze of junk, revealing the bright red mech to them. “Got a couple of my symbiotes out on the prowl. They should be back soon. Sent Steeljaw out to try and get a hold of old Hatchet, maybe talk some sense into him. Rewind and Eject are lookin’ for the others.”

Sam was looking about the mech’s collection when he caught on to the last part, the words causing him pause. “What? Blaster, we can’t have all of them coming to one place. Not with us being hunted right now. That’s exactly what they would want!” He threw his arms up in exasperation, looking to Bumblebee who was not quite as annoyed by this knowledge as he was. In fact, Bee seemed on board with the idea. “You can’t be serious. Bee, this is exactly what Optimus said _not_ to do.”

“What’re we doing right now, Sam? The very same thing.” Bumblebee pointed out, moving to stand by Blaster as the mech brushed some of the wires aside. “We are better prepared if we all are together. We must stick together. Sometimes we have to go against orders. If we want to save Optimus, and ourselves, we have to do this.”

Sam stared at the other, who had been his closest friend for more than half of the time he had been alive now. Bumblebee stood strong, servos clenched firmly at his sides. The scout waited until Sam gave him a quick nod before turning to Blaster and discussing the plan to get to Optimus. It was odd to think that Bumblebee was only a scout with how easily he took charge. There was no guarantee that the others would follow his lead, but Sam saw the other’s potential. Had he not known the nature of Bee’s connection to the Prime, he would have thought that Bumblebee was actually the progeny of the Prime with the similarities he saw from him now. Bumblebee adopted that same steady look and firm voice that Optimus had when addressing his soldiers just then. His stance was not playful as it usually was, but one of someone on a mission. He seemed almost unrecognizable.

“- sound good, Sam? Sam?” Bee pulled him from his thoughts, Sam’s attention snapping back to the other. Bee raised an optic ridge at Sam as he moved to climb up some of the shelving beside the console Blaster and Bee were looking at.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, leaning against Bumblebee’s arm.

“Once we find Ratch, he’s gonna look ya over, ‘kay? Then hopefully Bee can help us locate OP and we can get Ratch to him before the humans get him.” Blaster further explained, catching on to the fact that Sam obviously did not know anything about what he said was sounding good. “I thinks Steeljaw will have an easier time getting Ratchet to come out of hiding. We’re waiting on word from him.”

.   .   .

Rewind and Eject found Hound easily. The cheery recon specialist gladly followed them back to the makeshift base, seeming glad to see the other Autobots. He laughed endlessly at how untidy Blaster’s hideout was and quickly set about tidying it up and strengthening its defenses in the process. Sam helped where he could, working alongside Rewind and Eject on some of the more delicate wiring. He was roughly the same size as the symbiotes, which was refreshing. Since they had been avoiding human contact, Sam had gotten used to having to look up when talking with someone else.

They received word from Steeljaw that he had convinced the CMO to come to the base, which set off a sort of impromptu celebration on base. Not surprisingly, Blaster’s symbiotes were crazy partiers just like their carrier. Little work got done with Blaster blaring music throughout the base and dancing around with his symbiotes. Eventually Hound gave in, joining in on the fun. He danced like he had two left feet, though, falling over more than once. The sight of Blaster’s symbiotes scattering whenever Hound started to wobble dangerously brought a warm smile to Sam’s face, one he often found mirrored on Bee. Anyone looking at them would not have been able to guess how poor their situation actually was.

Drift actually found them before Steeljaw and Ratchet made it back. Rewind and Eject were more than a bit embarrassed when the mech simply walked into their base, one optic ridge raised as they scrambled away to Blaster. He said nothing, simply nodding in greeting to everyone before going off to find a more secluded part to rest. Bee had just shrugged as Sam watched the goings on curiously and gone back to work. Drift had not spoken to many of them before basically getting evicted, so Bee did not expect him to act any differently. Sam was better at telling when something was wrong, though. He always had a sort of sixth sense when it came to those sort of things. He had to with everything that happened to him in his short lifetime. So he waited until there was a lull in the work, and then went to figure out exactly what was wrong.

He found Drift cleaning his largest sword almost tenderly with a large cloth, the other two set neatly aside. Sam was a bit shocked by the size of the sword Drift was holding, having only glimpsed it on the other’s back a few times before. Sam watched him quietly for a moment before speaking up, “Hey, uh, Drift. How’re you doin’?” He nearly smacked himself in the face at how sheepish he sounded, but did not. He simply stood there, awaiting a response as the other continued to clean and polish his blade. “That’s quite a sword you got there.”

Drift finally spoke then, not looking up from his blade while he did. “It is the Greatsword, an ancient Cybertronian relic. It-“

“Draws off of the user’s spark energy.” Sam finished for the other, actually smacking a hand over his mouth this time. The one time he actually gets Drift to talk, and he interrupted him. “Sorry.” He apologized quickly, rubbing at his scruff bar a bit awkwardly. “That happens sometimes. Don’t mean it to. Side effect of the being in contact with the allspark for so long. Not nearly as bad as when I was in college. I would just go into these fits where I’d write a bunch of nonsense in Cybertronian; even did it once…” Sam trailed off, noticing the slight raise of Drift’s optic ridge as the mech listened patiently. “Sorry.”

“You are very anxious.” Drift responded simply, setting the cloth aside at last. “It is generally a good trait in a soldier; keeps them on their toes. But, you are no soldier.” This was not said condescendingly. It was simply a statement of fact as Drift sheathed the Greatsword. The white mech leaned down a bit more so Sam did not have to crane his neck as much before continuing to speak. “I am anxious, too. We are severely outnumbered here, and have lost many valuable fighters recently to enemies we once vowed to protect. Enemies in possession of great long range weapons.”

“And you don’t use guns or shields,” Sam muttered, realizing just how frightening this could be for Drift were he to react a moment too late.

“Once, when I was a much different mech, I did. But I have since realized the error of my ways, and refuse to take a life like that again. I chose a nobler path, which does unfortunately put me in a bit more danger.” He grabbed one of the blades to his side, holding it up for Sam to see. “Cybertronian steel does not dull easily like your metals do on Earth, but I still make sure to sharpen them because blades are an extension of yourself when fighting. Would you, as a human, have worked out only one arm? It would be impractical. It would also be stupid to not use all of your assets, Sam.”

The small mech looked confused by that, blinking. “Well, of course. But, what assets are you-“

There was a rather loud crash from the other side of the base and shouting. Drift was up in an instant, pushing Sam back behind him. Sam knew all too well what a mech looked like when running battle protocols, and could tell by the firm grip on the blades and the set of his shoulder struts that Drift’s were running full force. He could hear Drift’s vents kicking in full force, ready to compensate for the overheating that came with battle. There were no explosions, and there was not any shooting. Simply more shouting.

“Sam!” The voice was followed by a rather gruff looking medic coming around the nearby shelving, usually pristine bright paint now scratched and dinged. But, aside from that, Ratchet seemed relatively unharmed, and extremely annoyed. Bumblebee and Blaster were on his heels, each sporting a nice new dent. “Out of the way, Drift!” Ratchet barked, glaring as the mech put his swords away and easily stepped aside.

:We may finish our talk later. I believe Ratchet wants you.: Drift sent over the comm. quickly as Ratchet approached and immediately set to scanning Sam. :Perhaps to figure out the obvious.: The silent mech slipped away then, pushing by the timid mechs who had followed Ratchet in.

“It’s good to see you, too, Ratchet.” Sam said, actually meaning it although his tone made it seem like he did not. He offered a grin to the medic, who merely grunted at him. He waited patiently as Ratchet seemed to finally relax a bit, reaching down to offer him a lift. “Everything all good, Ratchet?”

“It seems that there were some… unexpected side effects from your attempt at suicide.” Ratchet mumbled, turning around with Sam sitting in the palm of his servo. He walked passed Blaster ad Bumblebee, throwing an expectant look Bee’s way. The scout fell in behind them, not saying a word. They moved to a separate alcove of shelter that everyone had been using recently to recharge, which stayed empty otherwise. There was a heavy sense of apprehension in the air, sending Sam’s on spark racing a bit in worry. Just when he had thought he was used to all of the changes that had happened to himself, a curve ball got thrown at him. He had a sneaking suspicion as to what it was, but he hated to think of what it could possibly mean.

Bee shut the door to the area behind them before Ratchet spoke, setting Sam on a makeshift berth in the room. “I need to know exactly what happened during the incident with Bumblebee. And Ironhide for that matter. Just so I can get an idea of the circumstances that bring about these… bursts of allspark energy.”

“So it is allspark energy?” Bee asked before Sam could speak, having suspected as much. But what that meant for them was both good and bad. They would need to keep it quiet.

“Yes, it is allspark energy.” Ratchet said, voice a bit sharp and on edge. “It seems that he is generating allspark energy, and occasionally it is released in bursts to do what you said it did before. It may be possible for him to get it under-control, but to do that, we would first have to be able to understand how it works. So, explain what has happened whenever it does happen.”

.   .   .

They had received nothing but silence from the Earth after the news that Ironhide, Mudflap, and Skids had been murdered. Prowl had struggled at the time to keep everyone from rushing back to Earth to avenge their fallen comrades. The twins led the charge, threatening to take him down in order to get to Earth. The Wreckers had backed the eagerly, rallying nearly everyone else to want to go with them. It had been left to him and Jolt to convince them not to do this. Prowl had been ready to fight for his life when the field medic had come forward and began to try and calm the crowd.

“What would Optimus say if he saw us?” Jolt had yelled above the shouting, everyone’s attention snapping to him. He stood before Prowl, electro-whips at his side and crackling loudly. “Is this how you think he would want us to act? Like barbarians? If we go out there now and attack them, then we are no better than the ‘Cons! Is that what we have come to?” His optics were alight with fury as he gestured a bit wildly, whips snapping through the air. Bots stepped back cautiously, some looking a bit sheepish at the accusation. The twins were still at the ready, though; Prowl suspected it would take more than a few sharp words to stop them.

Jolt was not deterred by their still unyielding behavior. He stepped forward so he was directly before them, looking the mechs dead in the optics. “If you leave, you are no better than all of the gossips say you to be.” Jolt said softly, tone firm. He watched as the twins both ground their denta together, shoulder struts squaring. “We all want revenge, but this is not how to go about it. Now is not the time for fighting. We need to stand together and be ready for Optimus Prime’s call. It will come. Until then, we have to wait.”

“And if the rest of them die and we never get that call?” Sunstreaker snapped, blade at his side scraping the floor lightly. “We will have lost all of them, then!”

“That _isn’t_ going to happen, though!” Jolt yelled right back, pushing Sunstreaker square in the chest and startling everyone there. Sideswipe grabbed the medic quickly, placing his blade square against his throat. Guns were out and pointed in all directions, and Prowl himself was at a loss for words. He had his own gun out pointed directly at Sideswipe, watching as Sunstreaker looked about the crowd. “Do it, and you’re down a medic.” The electric blue medic growled out.

“… He has a point.” Sunstreaker said, voice barely above a whisper but immediately drawing the attention of everyone to him.

“What?” Sideswipe whipped to face his twin, optic ridges high in shock.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” The gold twin ground out. He retracted his own blades, staring at Sideswipe expectantly until he backed away from Jolt and retracted his own blades. Prowl marveled at how the twos rolls appeared to be reversed. Sideswipe was usually the levelheaded one, while Sunstreaker had always been the erratic twin. He put his gun away and moved to Jolt’s side, patting the medic on the back as he rubbed his throat. “We will wait. Eventually we have to hear something.” There was a small murmur of agreement from everyone else before they began to scatter away.

“You could have gotten yourself killed,” Prowl scolded the young mech. This was met by a smirk as Jolt retracted his whips, shrugging. “Is that it? Do you have no regard for your own safety? Or your importance to the Autobot cause currently?”

Jolt shook his head. “It isn’t that.” Jolt said, laughing as Prowl raised an optic ridge at that. “It really isn’t. I know I’m the only medic here, so of course I am important. But, I just… had a feeling that it’d work out.  A gut feeling, I guess. Ratchet says it’ll get me killed one day.”

Prowl sighed, shaking his helm. “I fear that he is not wrong about that.”


	10. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Life happens, unfortunately.

Prowl kept an eye on the medic after the near revolt; it was not a hard thing to do with his daily spark checks. Ratchet had insisted that they be a thing when Prowl had arrived on Earth to the empty casing of his mate and a torn spark bond he had not felt when he was across the universe. The CMO said that was likely the only reason he had even lived, and Prowl should have counted himself lucky. Jolt repeated it every day when the scan results returned nothing out of the ordinary. His spark was perfectly healthy. He should be glad.

He supposed that if he had his emotion center turned on he would most definitely not be glad to be alive without his spark mate. It was easy enough to be thankful when he did not have any pesky emotions getting in the way of the logic behind that thankfulness. He could not help the Autobots from the Well. He would not have been able to focus on watching out for the young (and trouble enticing) medic if he were an emotional, and likely suicidal, wreck. He was thankful that he could so easily turn off his emotion circuit at will, and that neither Ratchet nor Jolt had done a scan of his processor since he had done so to realize he had. It was easy enough to turn on, yes, but there were severe repercussions when turning it on depending on how long it remained off. At that point in time, he doubted that he would survive turning it back on.

Prowl realized that, while a lot of the assumptions and observations he had made about Jolt prior to the mech becoming Ratchet’s assistant were still sound, they were not as true as he had thought. He had deemed the mech to be reckless troublemaker, both on and off the battlefield, but there were obvious calculations made for each seemingly reckless move. The young bot was actually very calculated in most things he did. Prowl suspected this was likely a side effect of medic training, perhaps even stemming from his life before joining the war effort.

Information was Prowl’s life blood. The only mech who cared more about facts than him was Perceptor, but they hungered for different types of facts. Prowl needed to know about mechs: what they liked, what they disliked, their background. He needed to know what made them _tick_. It was necessary as the Autobots’ head tactician to know this information when making anything from work schedules to battle plans. And the thought that perhaps he did not know enough about a mech that was rather important to his current team was enough to take his focus off of the eminent chaos and his dead spark mate.

He started gathering information in the easiest way he knew how: asking questions. “You were a scout prior to joining Prime’s team on Earth, correct? On the same team as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, under the command of Kup?”

Jolt was not at all annoyed by the questions, and answered each of them easily. “Yeah, although Sideswipe and I got separated for a bit. Sunstreaker found us, but unfortunately lost contact with Kup. Blaster got a brief message from the ship a while ago that Kup had been trying to get to us. He sent a reply, but we haven’t heard anything since then.”

“They’re likely headed to this quadrant. Your ship was patrolling in the opposite direction, of course, so it is likely to take some time.” Prowl pointed out, watching as Jolt searched about the medbay and grumbled almost inaudibly about not knowing where something was. Jolt certainly did not keep it as organized and tidy as Ratchet, but they had left in a bit of a rush. Everything had just been thrown in at the time of their departure, and it seemed that Jolt had not gotten around to sorting everything. Prowl picked up an energon converter off to his side, moving to where he knew Ratchet would have kept it and putting it away. “You seem relatively close to the twins. Did you know them before the war?”

Prowl watched Jolt very closely, noting how the other mech’s doorwings suddenly snapped to attention. Jolt dropped whatever he had been holding, resulting in a loud clang and a long string of swears as he hurried to pick it all up. The medic cast him a weary look over his shoulder as he set down what he had been holding before sighing and turning around. “How- How did you find out? Are you gonna question my allegiance now, like you do theirs?”

Prowl had absolutely no clue what Jolt was referring to, but went with it. The mech was making it seem like he had been some sort of criminal before the… _oh._ “It was a lucky guess, really. And never have any of us questioned their allegiance, nor will anyone question yours. You are all skilled fighters, and our comrades. We have no reason to. But, it would be useful to know where you came from, if you don’t mind sharing.”

Jolt gave a jerky nod, seeming a bit distracted. “Yeah, okay.” He took a while to cool himself, the familiar charge of electricity building up to drastic levels inside of him. He let out his electro-whips, feeling the charge leave them slowly. With a final vent of air, he began to share his story, for the first time ever.

.   .   .

Jolt was given spark by the allspark and immediately put with a group of maintenance bots in Kaon. It was his job to keep the bots working the mines, and all of their equipment, in peak condition. By then, Megatronus was a name many of them had come to fear. He took control of the mine operation in Kaon not long after Jolt had started working without a constant mentor there to make sure he did not mess anything up. That was how Jolt had met the twins, and Megatron.

Jolt had heard of several kidnappings around Cybertron, had seen random younglings appear and just as quickly disappear, but never had he actually come face-to-face with any. He had been working to repair the leg of a mech who had been in a mine collapse, crushing the leg entirely. He heard the door to the medical center open, but paid it no mind. He had a patient, after all. He had only looked up when one of the femmes that worked the medical center with him came over, her optics darting about. “J-jolt. You’re requested in room 4. I’ll take over here.” That was peculiar, but not entirely unheard of; many mechs only let one bot work on them. But he had never before been requested. He handed over what he had been using to the femme- he had never gotten her designation because he had disappeared from there after that shift- and moved to go check who was in room 4.

Room 4 was one of the larger side rooms of the medical center; they generally used it to house patients that needed to stay for extended periods of time. None of those patients were there, though. Someone had moved all of the patients out, leaving four mechs he had never seen in there. He could tell who the largest of them was just by looking at him, though. Many people spoke of Megatronus. They said his armor was as sharp as his temper, and optics the darkest of crimsons. Realizing who he was made it easy enough to guess that the other was his right hand mech, Soundwave. They stood by two huddled together younglings, likely about the same age as Jolt. Both were battered, and one of them had an arm out of socket.

“I was told I was requested here,” Jolt said cautiously, optics flicking between Megatronus and the red and yellow younglings. He felt the familiar buzz of electricity building up quickly, as it often when he was anxious. This was not a situation he wanted to be in. Those two were obviously abducted, and in poor condition. Was he expected to just fix them up and then let Megatronus do whatever he wanted with them? _What was he supposed to do_?

“Ah, yes. Jolt, is it? I have heard good things about your work from my men,” The large, terrifying mech seemed to praise, obviously trying to get Jolt to relax and trust him. He admitted that it did work a bit. Megatronus’ partner stood silently beside him, not moving even an inch as the other approached Jolt. “I require your assistance, young medic.”

“I am a maintenance bot, so if it is anything other than fixing limbs or stripped gears, I’m not your mech.” Jolt replied quickly, stepping back reflexively when Megatronus reached out to try and rest a servo on his shoulder. He watched the mech’s expression drop for the briefest of moments before it was back to before. “I never received full medic training.”

The same servo he had been avoiding before settled on his shoulder, gripping it a bit too firmly and preventing him from moving further. He felt panic rise in his spark, the familiar buzz filling his audio receptors as he started to get overcharged. The gladiator leaned down some to be optic level with him, “No, you may not be a proper medic, but I believe you are just the mech I am looking for.” There was a dark promise in those words, one Jolt did not want to find out about. His eyes darted from those sinister red optics to the two sets of bright blue watching him warily before he made his decision.

Without a second thought, he decided to show Megatronus why the others called him Jolt, and try to get those other younglings out of there. He unleashed the charge he had been building, sending out violent shocks of electricity in all directions from him. The large mech was down in an instant, circuits temporarily overloaded. He collapsed to Jolt’s side, leaving Jolt standing across the room from his friend. The other mech was quick to launch into action, charging at Jolt. He leapt to the side to try and avoid him, yelling to the younglings. “Get out of here! Run back to your home! I’ll distract him!” He ducked a swipe from the other, letting out the electro-whips he had been outfitted with for his job to try and defend himself.

The red and yellow mech were on their feet in an instant, but they did not run from the room like he expected them to. They launched themselves at Soundwave, tackling him to the ground even though the yellow one had an arm out of socket. What were they doing? “Get out of here!” He yelled again, charging up his whips to try and shock the large mech unconscious.

“Come with!” The red one called to him, huffing as the mech swatted him away. That enraged the yellow one- his twin, Jolt realized- who attacked Soundwave with renewed fervor. Jolt watched stunned for a while as the twins held their own pretty well against the mech. When he finally had enough of a charge, he shouted for them to move before lashing out at Soundwave, shocking him into temporary stasis.

They ran from the medical center then. Granted, they did not make it far before Megatronus’ goons found them; it was not hard to spot three brightly colored younglings in the pits of Kaon, where most bots were a dull gun metal grey to match their depressing surroundings. Jolt had honestly feared for his life, as well as for the split-spark twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Their caretakers had been murdered before they were taken captive by Megatronus and brought to the gladiatorial ring. Before that, they had lived the easy lives of those placed in the artist caste. He had grown up around this, unlike them. They could not have possibly known how to deal with this.

Yet, they had fought well against Soundwave. Maybe Jolt was wrong.

After getting captured, Jolt was beat to the point that he nearly offlined. Each of his tormentors was outfitted with a device to make them immune to his charges, making his possibility of escape impossible. He eventually gave up on begging for his life and crying for help, resigning himself to his fate. No one would help him. They all feared Megatronus too much to bother helping a few simple younglings. So he would take his punishments in silence, not even crying out in pain after a while.

One orn, Megatronus was the mech who entered his holding cell. Jolt nearly laughed, because _finally_ he was actually going to die. That was the only reason he could think of that Megatronus would come into his cell. But, he was actually surprised that orn. Megatronus undid his stasis cuffs, and stood over him as Jolt rubbed at his sore wrists dumbfounded. Was he being let go? He looked up to Megatronus, surely looking glitched at that point in time with how confused he was.

“You wanted to fight so badly before, so that is what you will do now. You will fight. Go get patched up by one of the medics, then report to the mess hall.” And then Megatronus left, with door wide open for Jolt to do the same.

He waited several clicks before he limped slowly out of the cell, favoring his right leg a bit. He found the medics easily enough, one immediately coming to attend to him. He tried to tell the mech to go help someone else and just give him the tools he needed to repair himself, but the mech actually _laughed_ at him. “You’ll want better repairs than something a maintenance bot can do before going to the rings, boy. No one wants to go into their first fight not working at 100% efficiency.”

.   .   .

“I’m sure you can figure out the rest,” Jolt said, shrugging. “I wasn’t one of the bigger names, like Sunny and Sides were. They were the twin terrors. I was just that glitchhead who shocked people.” He offered Prowl a wry smile. He pushed off of the berth he had come to lean on during his storytelling and moved to go sort through a mess of tools on the other side of the medbay. “I got out with most of my sanity. I unfortunately can’t say the same for Sunny and Sides.”

“You tried to help them, though.” Prowl added, looking on the mech with a new understanding. It made sense in a way that Jolt came from the gladiatorial pits, especially after watching him in battle. He was erratic, like the twins, fighting as if his life were truly at stake if he did not kill every last enemy. He was gentler than the twins off of the battlefield, though. Not being as deeply involved as them had helped him some, it seemed.

Prowl was snapped from his musings by a sudden slam as Jolt’s fists collided with the workbench before him, a surge of electricity pouring out from him and through the room quickly. It nearly knocked Prowl to the floor with the power of it. “I was not good enough, though! I have never been good enough than to just be some side show that no one cares about. If I had saved them, all of us, then maybe we would not be here. Maybe-“

“The war would have happened anyway. You three would have found your way here whether you had been part of the pits or not.” The tactician was quick to interrupt the other and diffuse his volatile emotions before he could accidentally let out another, possibly stronger charge and damage anything in the medbay. “This war was bound to happen, whether you saved the twins or not; there is no need to blame yourself for the past. You need to just try and make the future better. Which you are.” He watched as Jolt’s doorwings drooped sadly behind him, getting a small nod from the mech.

“You’re right.”

“I know,” Prowl said with a small smirk. “Now, I have work to do. It was nice speaking with you, Jolt.” He left the medbay quickly then, on a mission. He searched the entire ship, searching for the one mech he knew could help him keep an eye on the medic. He finally found him lounging about the rec room, sitting by himself at a table and sipping on energon.

“Need something, Prowl?” Mirage drawled lazily, leaning back in his chair some as Prowl approached. “You seem on edge, just like every other mech here. Take a break, prop up your feet. There’s no need to go guns blazing everywhere.”

Prowl rolled his optics, ignoring the other’s offer to take a seat. “That’s not it. I need a favor, and you’re the only mech I know who can get the job done without blowing their cover.” That last part caught Mirage’s interest, the ex-aristocrat sitting up immediately. “I need you to keep an eye on someone for me.”

.   .   .

“We’re just gonna try something, okay?” Blaster said calmly to Sam, who watched them apprehensively. “We aren’t gonna hurt him bad, alright. Just a few dents and dings.” The idea to beat Bumblebee up a bit had been Drift’s, which Sam was still extremely against. But, after all of the mechs had discussed why and how he had not just automatically healed Ratchet when the medic had picked him up. Granted, Bee had not been healed until Sam rested his hand over his vocoder so that may have something to do with it. He had suggested just trying it on an injury someone else already had, but Drift had to suggest that there may have been a link to Bumblebee.

That was how he found himself seated on the dirt outside, back resting against the rock outcropping that hid their temporary base. Bumblebee and the others were standing several yards away, trying to decide how to go about this. “Let’s just act like it is hand to hand training,” Hound said. “No need to force it; most bots get injured in hand to hand training anyway.”

“That was because Ironhide was a rough trainer,” Drift pointed out, earning a sharp look from the others at the mention of their deceased friend. “Are swords a no go?” Drift was already taking out his sword, moving towards Bumblebee. The other’s yelped in shock, Blaster, Hound, and the symbiotes moving to get in the way. Sam was up, charging towards the mech as well.

Ratchet set a hand in front of Sam, leaning down to whisper as the other mechs argued with each other. “Let them handle this. There are some types of tension that can only be resolved like this. They need this.” Sam wanted to argue, but his attention was snatched back to the others by a sudden loud crash. Blaster had been shoved to the side, falling to the ground and as his symbiotes went to help him up, Hound stood between Drift and Bee.

“Drift, this is uncalled for, mech. Put the swords away and we can just go through with the original plan.” Hound stood up a bit straighter. He looked a bit taken aback, as did they all, when Bumblebee set a hand on Hound’s shoulder strut and pulled him aside. The scout had his battle mask in place and cannon at the ready.

“No, this was always the plan, wasn’t it?” Bumblebee’s optics were fixed on the ex-decepticon, circling around him cautiously. “You’ve had an issue with me since you joined the Autobots. Why not use now to hash those issues out, right?”

“Ratch, this is going too far,” Sam whispered desperately.

The medic shook his helm, watching the two mechs get ready to fight. “No. They know better than that. And if they don’t, then Hound and Blaster will step in.”

.   .   .

Many mechs feared the twins, although not for the same reasons they once did. Back when the twins first enlisted, everyone feared them betraying the autobots; and by the twins, they usually meant Sunstreaker would desert and then Sideswipe would follow. They were right to fear them. The twins were ruthless in battle, a side effect of growing up in the gladiatorial rings and training under Megatron. They came to know the twins better over time, though, and realized that they were not evil and ruthless like their mentor off of the battlefield. They behaved like the mischievous younglings they should have been, pulling all sorts of pranks and such.

You could tell that their time in the rings had affected them, Sunstreaker more so than his twin. Neither ever spoke of their battles in the rings. Sideswipe would laugh it off, claiming that no one wanted to hear their “boring war stories”, while Sunstreaker often just got up and left. And after hearing what he had from Jolt, Prowl could not blame them. He imagined their side of the story was just as bad, if not worse than Jolt’s. It had put a lot of their quirks into perspective.

That only made Prowl want to know more. He remembered when the twins had joined the Autobots; it was originally just Sideswipe, although his brother followed his lead shortly after. While both had been offered promotions before, like Bumblebee they opted not to take them. It was a peculiar thing, but Optimus Prime had respected their wishes. So the twins remained as simple frontliners, although they were each more skilled than that. Prowl no longer believed their original story of not feeling ready for a promotion after the story he got out of Jolt. And he felt the only way to figure it out would be to get the other half of that story from them.

He was actually surprised by how easy it was to get the twins to come speak with him. Generally they would avoid him like the plague, yet when he requested their presence in his office, they actually showed up. Prowl had to do a double take, and if Sunstreaker was smirking, he did his best to ignore it. They both took a seat before Prowl even asked them to, which shocked him even more. Sideswipe said they knew already that this would take a while.

Sideswipe started telling the story, beginning it when they were mere sparklings. It all started there according to him. The twins were given life by the allspark (a sparking during which there were complication due to the fact that their spark split unexpectedly), and then given to a wealthy couple of artists who had actually put in a rare request to be given a sparkling. The mechs had been kind to them and spoiled the twins immensely. They put up with every prank the two mischievous little sparklings tried to pull, finding it hard to scold them until they were younglings. It was a bit too late to start disciplining by then. Sunstreaker had gladly taken up art, slowly starting to build up a reputation. Sideswipe had not found a niche in the caste as easily, but he eventually took up sculpting although it never satisfied him.

Neither of them were able to get very far in their careers.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had heard about the gladiatorial rings that were cropping up all of Cybertron, and while they at first passed it off as just rumors and hearsay, it had planted an idea in the yellow twin’s processor. Sunstreaker began sneaking out at night, worrying their caretakers when he would come back in the morning all banged up. He had started to shut out their caretakers, snapping at their pleading to know what was going on. Sideswipe tried to approach his twin about it, but received the same short replies and sarcasm. It had hurt the red twin deeply, but he did not give up. It was through his pestering and hanging around his twin that he found out what his twin had been up to: Sunstreaker had entered in the gladiatorial ring there in the artist district of Cybertron.

Sunstreaker had been livid that Sideswipe had followed him. He yelled at him for what seemed like forever and told him to god home. “You’re too soft for this,” He had said. The words stung, but Sideswipe did his best to not let them get to him. He refused to leave, saying that if Sunstreaker was going to be an idiot and get himself killed, Sideswipe would too. That earned him even more yelling from his twin and a threat to contact their caretakers. But Sunstreaker could not call them without turning himself in as well. So, with a lot more pleading, he let Sideswipe stay with him and fight.

They became pretty well-known not too long after, earning the nickname, “The Twin Terrors.” They were ruthless in the rings, never relenting in their onslaught. Yet, when they returned to their home, it was like none of that life existed. They went back to the painting and sculpting, ignoring their caretakers’ questions and passing off their injuries as simple rough-housing, and when night came, they headed to the rings to fight.

Their success drew the attention of none other than Megatronus, especially given their age. He approached them after one battle, waiting for them with Soundwave in the infirmary. He praised their skill in battle, saying he had not seen such young skilled fighters since his own younglinghood. They had actually preened under the compliments, glad that someone was proud of their accomplishments. He extended an invitation to visit the main ring in Kaon to see how “real gladiators fight” instead of the weaklings they had been facing.

Of course they had gone along.

The Pits were horrifying. Neither of them had expected such poor conditions, flinching away from all of the grime and dust. They were not used to it, both having become slight neat freaks because of their upbringing. How could bots live in such filth? Sunstreaker had actually asked Megatronus this, earning a dark chuckle from the mech. “Not all of us come into such wealthy, respectable households. Some of have to _work_ for what we have, and that often requires a little grime.”  Sunstreaker had immediately been put off by that, his twin feeling the same. He wanted to go back home, but honestly had no clue how they would. Their caretakers were likely worried out of their processors trying to find them. They had made a huge mistake in going there, and the further they got into the Pits, the more evident it was.

.   .   .

“As the humans might say, we fell pretty far down the rabbit hole after that,” Sideswipe mumbled, not even looking up from his own servos as the story had progressed; Sunstreaker was acting much the same. “He offered us a permanent place in Kaon to fight in the Pits. We said no, so he killed our caretakers and beat us. The rest…” He waved his servo in the air. “Ancient history.”

Prowl let it all soak in for a moment, nodding slightly. He had known of their involvement in the gladiatorial rings, as most mechs had, but he never knew how it had started. Two parts of this story were filled in now. And there were only two other mechs who could fill in the other blanks, one who he believed was dead, and the other who was on Earth with their leader. For now, Prowl would have to survive with what he had. It was enough to go on.


End file.
